


Daughter of the Devil

by ChihiroLee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Corporal Punishment, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Magic, Evil Hermione Granger, F/M, Hermione Is Voldemort's Daughter, Hermione is a Halfblood, Kidnapping, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Tom Riddle's Diary, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-11-01 03:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChihiroLee/pseuds/ChihiroLee
Summary: She wanted nothing more than to see them all suffer, and longed for the day when she would finally be able to exact her revenge on them all...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my little babies that I was forced to remove from my ffnet account, due to hate mail and death wishes. I've been working on this for a moment now. And this will be a DARK! Hermione fic. I pretty much know who she's going to be paired with in the end, but that's a surprise and its definitely going to be a slowww burn. . . Please don't be upset about that.
> 
> Warning for future reference, Hermione WILL be OOC as will many other people in this story. She will be mean, snarky, and sometimes rude. So please don't expect her to be empathetic, because she won't be. She will be cunning, manipulative, and ruthless. Her main agenda for the time being is Hermione, and what she deems to be important to her.
> 
> Please read and review to let me know what you all think. This version of my fic is coming from my personal archive, so it will be darker than the previous version I shared on ffnet. Though due to the vicious response I received on ffnet, I will unfortunately be forced to moderate all of the incoming comments on this fic.
> 
> The inspiration for the prayer punishment, came from the movie The Secret Life of Bees, grit scene.  
> The inspiration for the nun's cruelty, came from two sources, AHS Asylum & Accounts from Smyllum Park orphanage in Lanark.  
> The inspiration for the Orphan's uniforms, came from AHS Asylum.  
> Let me know what you guys think.

Slowly rising from the depths of oblivion, the feeling beginning to return to her fingers and toes. She grunted before rolling over and curling into herself more tightly - hugging her knees to her chest with her arms. Something about the atmosphere surrounding her didn't seem quite right. . . cautiously, she opened one of her eyes and quickly scanned the room she was in. She felt her heart rate begin to speed up as she realized that she was completely unfamiliar with her surroundings.

Awareness came to her in an instant, this was _not_ within her comfort zone, this was strange and in many ways _very_ frightening. What had happened - how had she gotten here - _where_ was here - why was she. . .? Wait, _who_ was she? So many thoughts scrambled to the surface of her mind in that moment, that a thin film of perspiration began to form on her brow. Fear was setting in and there was nothing she could do to stop it, no comforting words or thoughts, nothing reassuring came to mind. . . She had no idea what was going on anymore.

* * *

Saint Peters Home for Orphaned Children, she soon discovered, was the name of the place she had woken in several months ago. The building itself was nothing more than a decrepit grey little hovel that was clearly on it's last legs; it reeked of despair and desperation, it wafted from the facility in droves, seeming to do little more than aid in the melancholy experienced by all the inhabitants living there. The orphanage had been run by a convent of nuns — all handpicked by the monsignor himself — where each of them were charged with minding the orphans that resided there. And the fifteen stocky, severe looking nuns took great pleasure in running the care of the thirty-eight orphans living there. They ruled with an iron fist and the orphans were expected to abide by all the rules, and worship god for all he was worth, because god was supposedly " _the father of all orphans_ ," according to the words of Sister Eunice. Each of the children were expected to bend to their desires and be — for all intents and purposes — ideal residents. Which was how she found herself in this particular predicament.

It felt like it had been forever since they had returned home from the zoo, and she wondered just how long they intended to keep her here in this disgusting forgotten bedroom. When Sister Mary tossed her in here, her first thought had been, _surely they didn't mean for a three year old to stay the night in this derelict unkempt bedroom_. . . That had been about three nights ago. She thought they would let her out when it came time for supper in the very least, but she was mistaken. Her meal had been delivered to her that evening, by a sneering nun, that looked at her as if she were the devil himself - horns and all. She didn't understand what she had done to deserve the woman's ire, aside from the strange incident that had occurred that afternoon when they returned home from the zoo. She didn't understand what had happened, one moment Sister Eunice was hauling her up by her arm, trying to cart her off to the Mother Superior's office to tell her of what she had witnessed at the zoo.

Scared of being sent to the chapel room - a room that she'd heard about from one of her roommates, where the nuns forced the children to " _pray"_. When she had first arrived, she had no idea what the other child meant, having never _prayed_ to anything before in her life, as far as she could remember. But when one of the girls returned from a prayer session, bloody and limping with knees so raw and mangled she had begun to believe that the girl had been attacked by an animal. When she asked the girl what happened, she laughed in her face and told her to wait her turn to ask for the lord's forgiveness. Knowing what would be awaiting her in that office, she panicked and wished to be free of this situation; and the next thing she knew, Sister Eunice had fallen down the stairs and broken her ankle. Before she could process anything else, the injured woman had screamed for assistance and yelled to the first woman that came to her aid that _she_ had somehow manage to knock her down the stairs by way of an invisible force.

Needless to say, she never made it to the Mother Superior's office. Instead, she had been tossed into this filthy decrepit room without another thought. She peered out the window and looked at the moon, it was full and in the next coming days it would begin to wane - decreasing in size until it appeared as nothing more than a small crescent in the sky. As she continued gazing out at the moon her mind wandered back to that snake at the zoo. It said that it knew her. . . The snake had _spoken_ with her. Logically she knew it had to be impossible, yet it had felt entirely natural, almost as if she had done it before. Her mind quickly shifted gears as she heard the howl of the wind as it began to shake the glass in the window pane - forcing her to think about just how cold it was in this room. She could feel the chill of the spring night air as it bled through the glass of the uncovered window of the attic bedroom she was currently locked in. She longed for a comforter, a blanket, a sheet, anything to help mildly shield her from the cold in the room, but she doubted that she would be getting one anytime in the near future especially if the past two nights had been any indication. She unraveled her arms from around her body, and flexed her chilled fingers. Feeling the goose pimples immediately as they broke out across the surface of her bare arms.

Shivering, she stood from the thin mattress, hating that the nuns had placed it directly beneath the window as she began to walk towards the thick oak door on the opposite side of the room. She lent forward and lowered her head so that she could be eye level with the brass back plate of the aged brass mortice lock securing the door to the frame. She slowly peaked out through the tiny keyhole provided there and saw that the hall beyond the door was dark, just as she feared. Now she knew for certain that she was doomed to spend another evening here. Angrily, she stomped back over to the window, wondering what she had done to deserve being placed here. Sure this place was supposed to be for orphaned children, and she had apparently been abandoned here in the middle of the night, but she definitely couldn't have been so terrible that her parents would hate her enough to abandon her. Not for the first time, Hermione went to sleep with tears in her eyes, just wishing she could have the opportunity to turn the tables on those in charge of her. . .

* * *

Her second discovery, had been that she had arrived here without a first name. So she had been given a name her first week there, by one of the older nuns - Sister Helen - just before the woman passed away the following week. She'd settled on the name Hermione Jean, and as she grew, she began to wonder just why the woman had settled on that name? She wondered if the woman had been a fan of Greek mythology at some point in her life, and if she named her as such, simply because her name was Helen - the same as the ethereal wife of King Menelaus - and she venerated Greek mythology almost as much as she did the virgin Mary. She laughed quietly at her own private joke, wondering just how accurate she could be with her thoughts. Her name was unique though, which was something she could appreciate the late nun for. But as she grew older, she soon realized that it was more than just her name that made her different from the other children. It was as if, the more she grew the more she began to stand out. Not that she was bothered by that fact. . .

In fact, Hermione Jean Delird had always been immensely proud to showcase her differences, constantly looking for more and more ways to show off just what she could do. She was hyper intelligent for a child her age; though that was mainly due to her insatiable hunger for knowledge in combination with her eidetic memory. At only seven years old, Hermione had already managed to perfect her penmanship to the point of it being borderline calligraphy, and her intelligence had made her something of a prodigy in the school she was forced to attend. With her literacy skills far surpassing that of even the oldest of residents in the orphanage and her skill in mathematics was superior enough to put a few of her teachers to shame - even on her worst day. She was proud of herself and her mental capacity, especially being surrounded by such dunderheads all the time, though no one else seemed to really acknowledge her intellect aside from herself, due to their fear of her other extraordinary talents.

Ever since that day at the zoo, three months prior to her fourth birthday, she had begun to discover that she had developed newfound powers. Powers that enabled her to be able to make the impossible happen. Things like, knocking people down the stairs without ever laying a hand on them, the same way she had done Sister Eunice that very first day her powers began to show, or being able to make inanimate objects hover in the air and fly into her hands with nothing more than a mere glance. Though Hermione had to admit that the most impressive of her abilities however, were not the ones she had pertaining to her telekinesis, but the ones she had in regard to animals. She had the ability to control them. . . with just the slightest bit of focus and a little eye contact, Hermione had the ability to make them do what ever she wished, jump, dance, or even _attack_ if the animal was frightening enough. But even better than that, in her opinion was her ability to _talk to_ and _understand_ snakes.

She could vividly recall the very first time she had ever held a conversation with a snake. It was a green anaconda she had come into contact with when the nuns decided to "treat" the children by taking them to the London Zoo on a trip to see god's many creations. She remembered being completely enthralled with the snake, staring at the beautiful markings lining it's smooth scales before moving over to read it's description card. The card said it was called "Spike" and that he was 8.8 meters long with a girth of nearly 30 centimeters and weighed approximately 227 kilograms, making it one of the heaviest snakes in recorded existence. She looked at the name one more time, thinking he didn't really look like much of a Spike, before turning around to face him once more. And then the most curious thing in the world had happened, the snake had slithered closer to the glass and reared up - looking her square in the eye.

For a moment, she could recall feeling as though she was being placed under an extraordinarily intense form of hypnosis, before it began to hiss at her through the glass and a sharp sudden pain began to fire off behind her left eye. She had fallen flat onto her arse, clutching the front of her head in pain at the sudden jolt to her mind. Unsurprisingly, no one had come to assist her, and she sat on the floor, nursing her achy head for a while before she could hear a soft almost inaudible voice whispering to her, asking her if she was okay. She looked around quickly, trying to ascertain where the voice had come from when she noticed that no one else seemed to be around her. Shakily, she stood to get a better look at her surroundings when she noticed that she was almost entirely alone - everyone from the orphanage was no longer in sight and there were about three other people looking around the exhibit.

" _Are you alright?_ " she heard the voice whisper again and she whipped her head around swiftly, trying to catch where it had come from. When she saw no one, standing within her immediate vicinity, she became alarmed, wondering if there was perhaps a ghost haunting this exhibit. It was ridiculous, she knew, but she couldn't imagine how else it could have been possible.

" _Hello?_ " she asked, whipping her head from side to side as she did so.

" _Over here._ " the voice whispered again, this time coming from her left side where the green anaconda exhibit was located.

She turned her head slowly towards the exhibit, noting that the snake was now perched up against a log near the front of the glass, staring straight at her.

" _Yes, over here_ ," it whispered again. " _Come here_. . ."

She hesitated for a moment, but remembered that there was glass separating her from this massive snake, though she somehow inherently knew that it wouldn't hurt her. Hermione approached the glass, looking at the snake again before whispering back.

" _S- Spike_?" she had questioned, " _Is that you talking to me right now_?" she asked and the snake bobbed it's head from side to side, in what she assumed to be _excitement_?

" _Spike_ ," it scoffed, " _My name is Fídi_!" it exclaimed in a voice much louder than before as it slithered closer to the glass, " _I just knew from your look, that you were her_."

" _Her_?" She questioned, going closer to the glass. " _Who exactly do you think I am_?" she queried, but before the snake could respond, she felt a vice like grip on her arm. Her head snapped towards the offending extremity with disdain before looking up to see who owned it.

Sister Eunice.

"I knew there was always something wrong with you." she sneered down at her. "And now I have my proof."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Hermione lied glibly, not wanting to be punished by this idiot of a woman.

Unimpressed with her lie, Sister Eunice roughly pulled her closer, staring her straight in the eye, "You look here, you little devil child. I saw what you were doing." She snapped, "I SAW you talking-

She was cut off by the sound of a loud **_THUNKING_** noise, and they both turned to find the anaconda ramming itself against the glass, in an obvious attempt to break it. All the while, Hermione could hear it going on in a fit of rage where she could only make out a few words and phrases. "How dare you!" She heard it hiss, as well as, "Muggle filth", "Mistress Maleficent," and "swore to protect Morgana."

As soon as a hairline fracture appeared on the surface of the glass, Sister Eunice yanked her away from the anaconda and out of the reptile exhibit. That had been the beginning of everything for her. The beginning of the manifestation of her abilities. The beginning of the harsh abuse she endured at the hands of the nuns running the orphanage. The beginning of her life as she currently knew it.

The event had marked the beginning of when the nuns and other children began to try to make her life as miserable as physically possible. The nuns seemed to find a sick kind of pleasure in the cruel punishments they conjured up, where they would force her to kneel before a horrendously grotesque looking crucifix on top of " _blessed"_ rock salt, while they doused her in holy water and made her pray for hours on end for 'forgiveness', or caning her arse until it felt about as raw as a package of mince meat. But to be honest, Hermione actually preferred those archaic forms of discipline over the _other_ punishment the nuns tended to favor, which was something she fondly referred to as "The Abyss". Which was the cold, dark, moldy smelling attic they would lock her in for days on end, where she would sometimes go without a single crumb of food or even a tiny sip of water, and nothing more than a thin mattress without a stitch of bedding, and a medium sized bucket delegated to her for her lavatory needs until the nuns deemed her repentant of her past actions. At least the other two forms of punishment, had the added benefit of being over the very same day, with the Abyss, she never knew just how long she would be locked in there.

Due to the nuns constantly punishing her, she had come to be considered something of a pariah among the rest of the orphans. Which as a result made her the recipient of much of their un-verbalized ire as well. She knew their vexation with her was derived from living in the undemonstrative, repressive environment of St Peters, but that didn't make her feel any better about being on the receiving end of it all. They wanted her to conform to the ideals of the orphanage, and the more she resisted, the more it seemed that they all hated her. Before she was able to grasp a full handle on her powers some of the children would try and steal her few humdrum belongings that she'd arrived with - which consisted of a rather luxurious looking black, green and silver cashmere throw blanket and a silk child sized nightdress. When that didn't work, the bigger, older children would then attempt to make her do their bidding, and the truly foolish ones would stupidly try to physically hurt her when she wouldn’t comply. That all changed though, once she gained more control over her abilities, because even though the children still considered her to be different, they now considered her to be dangerous as well. So instead of hating her and wanting to do her harm, the other children now feared her enough to want to avoid her and it was for good reason at that. She _was_ different. But everyone else saw her as something far worse she was an aberration, a _freak_ , and the child of Satan himself, if she was to believe the whispers of some of the sisters in charge of minding them.

For five long, long years Hermione had lived under the harsh reign of the nuns and for a little over four years of that time, she had spent it surviving their attempts to _exorcise the devil_ from her. One of the worst times being when at age four - just a few months after her birthday - Sister Eunice caught her outside talking to a grass snake that she found out there when she was looking for alone time away from the other kids, or when the Mother Superior's habit had begun to suffocate her when her ' _demon_ _power_ ' had caused the woman's habit to begin constricting around her, tightening and tightening until the woman finally released her as she began gasping for air. Both incidents ended with Hermione being thrown into the Abyss for two weeks straight, and the Mother Superior caning her so hard she was unable to sit down on her arse for well over a week in retribution for the latter.

Hermione had had to be clever, cunning, vindictive, and extraordinarily ruthless, in order to survive her daily life in the orphanage, but even that was not enough. Not after yesterday night as her knees started to bleed under the weight of her body, when she had been knelt before that crucifix for a well over five hours. It was there, that she finally decided that she was going to use her talent to get herself adopted. She started out by practicing more and more on the animals that wandered into the yard, making them do physical tasks like running back and forth or in laps around the yard. After that she moved up to controlling a few of the children in the orphanage every now and again. Making them do her chores, like cleaning the kitchen or making the beds. She didn't want to risk trying it on any of the nuns though, so she didn't know how effective it would be on an adult, but she was willing to give it a try nonetheless.

* * *

Hermione found herself staring at the shadow of the common lime tree from the yard out back, as it danced and swayed over the surface of the paint chipped walls in the bedroom she was currently locked in. Nothing but the thin mattress in the corner and a black leather bound bible - courtesy of Sister Eunice - to keep her company. She reluctantly had to admit that this room was at least better than the Abyss. The room had a bed that wasn't as thick as a sheet of paper, not to mention that it also had a sheet as well, no matter how thread bare it was. She was just happy to finally be free of the Abyss, though she knew it was only a matter of time before she found herself back in there. Which was the reason why Hermione decided to devote all of her time and energy into finding a way to get out of this god forsaken orphanage. She was going to get adopted out of here, if it was the last thing she did. She couldn't bear another day hulled up in that cold dank attic all because of these ridiculous religious zealots surrounding her. Hermione walked up to the sunlit window and looked out over the other children running around and playing. She couldn't lie about the fact that she was extremely envious of the freedom they had, the freedom to be themselves without fear of repercussion.

Angry, she turned on her heel abruptly, and marched away from the window, furious with them for their ability to run around and be children, while she had to be locked away in her room and shunned from society. She wasn't jealous of their childish meaningless games of tag or hide and seek though, what she truly envied was their ability to simply just _be_ , without any fear of consequence or punishment. Though she did have to admit that if she did have the opportunity to truly be herself, it probably wouldn't be the nicest affair for all those involved. Hermione knew she had a darkness in her, one that made her relish in the fear that her power caused in those around her. Shaking her head, she tried to clear it of her previous thoughts, for they were certain to get her in trouble. After all, her thoughts were what got her locked up this latest time- when she had let them influence her actions, once again, only to be caught by Sister Eunice using her secret powers to punish the kids she hated the most. Monica Wilks and Kenneth Hindman, the only two children that still somehow refused to see her as the predator that she was.

The day in question had started normal enough. She had risen bright and early with the rest of the orphans, before eating her minuscule breakfast then set to work on the chores for the day. Quickly, she washed the breakfast dishes, before running upstairs to make the beds, after-which she went outside to spend some time relaxing in the garden - and hopefully come across her little friend Suge. She loved the garden for that one reason, it was filled with grass snakes, the only creature it seemed, that was willing to befriend her in any meaningful way. Just after she stepped outside and approached her favourite rose bush, Suge came slithering out from beneath the bush and began hissing at her in a familiar tone which she recognized immediately. Looking around to check for the presence of the nuns or any of the other orphans, Hermione turned back to the snake and began to respond.

" _Hello there, little one_." she hissed in a low whisper, " _Come to find me again, have you_?"

" _Yes of courssssse_ ," the snake hissed back, " _I've been waiting for you to return_."

" _Oh have you now_?" Hermione questioned, curious as to why the snake had been waiting for her.

" _Oh yesssss mistress, Suge has been waiting a long time for you to come back outside and pay her a visit_."

" _I'm sorry you've been waiting for me for so long Suge_." Hermione said, while bending down to run a hand fondly over the snake's back. " _My ability to come outside, is somewhat out of my control, but I promise I'll try and make it my business to come out here and see you as often as I can_."

" _Suge would like that very much misstress_ ," the snake hissed back.

" _Suge, may I ask you a question_?" Hermione queried as she lowered herself to sit down on top of the grass, right next to the snake, and continued to brush her fingertips delicately over it's smooth scales as she recalled the memory from four years ago, when she had attended that life changing trip to the zoo. That was the first time she had ever heard a snake refer to someone as ' _Mistress_ '. The snake hissed out a yes and she decided to take advantage of it's complacency and ask the question that had recently begun to plague her. " _Why is it that you call me mistress Suge? This isn't the first time that I've heard that, how shall I put this. . . term of_ endearment."

The snake chuckled, actually chuckled, in response before answering, " _It's a term used by serpents when we're speaking with a parselmouth_."

 _Parselmouth_ Hermione lifted a brow at the unfamiliar word, before delving even deeper.

" _And what exactly is a_ parselmouth?" She wondered aloud to the snake.

" _A parselmouth is a person like you. A person that can speak the language of snakes_." it hissed as it slithered across the grass and into her lap.

" _Are there many people out there in the world that can do what I do_?" she hurriedly asked, eager to know if there were more people in the world like her

" _Not these days, there are_ -

But before Suge could finish her sentence, Hermione heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. With an annoyed eye-roll, she looked up to meet the mocking eyes of Kenneth Hindman and his simpering sidekick Monica Wilks.

"Look who finally made a friend." the older boy said with a sneer.

Monica laughed before adding, "Now you know they're the only creatures willing to befriend a freak like her, Kenny."

"Sod off," she sneered in response to the bullying teens. "Can't you idiots see that I'm in the middle of something?"

" _I'm in the middle of something_ ," Kenneth mocked her, causing his air headed sidekick to laugh at his painfully unfunny joke. "What are you trying to do exactly Delird? Convince that snake to slither up your cunt like the fucking weirdo you are." he said with a smug smile, clearly pleased by his crude attempts at humor. The girl beside him released another shrill cackle in response, the sound drawing Hermione's attention to the girl for a moment before drawing her eyes back to the older boy.

"No Kenneth, I'm trying to convince this snake to slither up _your_ cunt." Hermione said with a smirk, while keeping her eyes trained on the dumb blond boy. "Why don't you go on and bend over just a bit now Kenneth, I promise she'll be gentle."

"I ain't no damn poof, you stupid little bitch." he hissed, cheeks blushing at the insinuation.

"Doesn't look that way to me," she said with a shrug before looking back down at the snake and beginning to talk to her once more.

"You really are a weird little bitch, aren't you Delird?" Monica said viciously, "Just look at you, sitting outside and talking to snakes? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Never taking her eyes away from the snake, Hermione fluidly switched from parseltongue to English and continued speaking, "Don't you have a broom closet you need to be off to, in order to perform your hourly _services_ , Monica?" she said in a low tone, "I know your clients will be quite lonely without that big, lovely mouth of yours to keep them company."

"Services?" the girl nearly shrieked. "How _dare_ you —

"How dare I, _what,_ exactly?" Hermione questioned viciously. "All I'm doing is reminding you that your services aren't needed here Monica, especially seeing as how I haven't got a cock for you to fellate." she said before turning her head to look at the older boy, "And you, it's not exactly my fault your dad beat your mother to death before shooting himself in the face, so I don't see why you feel such a ridiculous desire to project your previous filial dysfunctions on me. Now run along before I make you regret your decision to approach me today."

She watched as the boys face flushed with anger, clearly upset with her for knowing so much of his family life before he'd arrived here in Saint Peters two years ago. He took a few angry steps toward her, mouth opening slightly to grit out the words, "Why don't you come and make us run along, you demon possessed little cunt!"

She held back the bubble of laughter that began making it's way up her throat at that comment, wondering whether or not he knew that she no longer found that shite to be offensive. In fact, she took the accusation as a compliment these days, no longer bothered by the fact that these people saw her as inherently evil. Though she had to admit, that they weren't entirely wrong with that assumption. She would gladly kill any of the inhabitants of the house, just so long as she could watch their suffering, and catalogue how long it took for them to die. The grass snake in her lap hissed in response, and even though it wasn't a venomous snake, she could see that it's hiss still had the desired affect when Kenny faltered in his steps.

"What you gonna do, Delird? You gonna try and sic your pet snake on us?" he questioned, seeming to find more confidence in himself as he looked over and assessed the snake, and took another step forward. "Well, newsflash little girl, your pathetic little snake isn't gonna do anything. Hell, the thing isn't even poisonous."

Before he could get a step closer, Hermione simply raised her hand in a well practiced manner and watched in poorly hidden glee as the older boy was tossed three meters across the yard and directly into the trunk of a large common lime tree. His head made a sickening sound as it cracked against the base of the tree and Hermione felt thoroughly pleased by the sound. It was always lovely to hear the sounds of the people she loathed, when she finally had them on the receiving end of her vengeance.

"What the hell did you do to him, you. . . you. . _freak!_ " Monica screeched before running over to her fallen friend.

Hermione continued to watch the scene unfold with a satisfied smirk as the insolent girl dropped to her knees and began to fawn over the unconscious boy. She looked around the yard once more and saw a few of the other children standing off in a group, glancing over at the scene every few moments before turning back and talking with each other once more. With a sigh, Hermione knew that her time outside had come to an end, and wanting to avoid another round of discipline from the nuns, Hermione gently slid the snake from her lap and hissed for her to go beneath the bushes. Just as she went to stand, her arm was wrapped in the all too familiar grip of someone she knew far too well, so she wasn't surprised when she looked up to meet the cold hard eyes of Sister Eunice.

Hermione couldn't help the bitter sigh that escaped her mouth, as she reflected on the events of that day. She knew she had been careful, so very _very_ careful, but Kenneth and Monica just couldn't keep their big fat noses out of her business. And Sister Eunice - the woman that had harbored a special dislike for her ever since that day at the zoo - was always there, trying to catch her slipping. Which was how she managed to catch her speaking with yet another one of her snake friends. An event that led her to spending two and a half weeks in the Abyss, with only the angry growls from her stomach to keep her company.

She hated this place, gods, how she hated _every_ _thing_ about it. She hated the stiff overly starched sky-blue uniforms that the nuns forced them to wear - how they stood out in sharp contrast to the dull lifelessness of the orphanage itself, giving off the image of false happiness. She hated how the teachers at the school that she was forced to attend, never seemed to challenge her enough and scorned her for the calibre of intelligence she held. She hated the endless hours of ridiculous praying, to the Sisters _magic sky daddy_ , who didn't seem to care that he'd orphaned a bunch of children and doomed them to a life of pain and adversity, as if that weren't ludicrous enough on it's own. She hated the other children. But what she hated most of all were the nuns in charge of running the orphanage. She wanted nothing more than to see them all suffer, and longed for the day when she would _finally_ be able to exact her revenge on them all.

Hermione heard the toll of the bell, the one that summoned the children when prospective parents came along to have a look around at them, looking for whichever one they deemed worthy enough to adopt. She took a deep shuddering breath, ready to put her powers to the test as she left her room and headed down the stairs. She tried to imagine how she would do this. . . hoping it would be as easy as it was when she used her powers on the few children she had practiced on here in the orphanage. She would simply make eye contact with them - as she had with the other children - and make them bend to her will. Just as she had with her practice dummies, she would slip into their subconscious and make them do exactly what she wanted, like performing her chores or purposefully getting themselves in trouble to take the attention off of herself every once in a while. But in this case, she would be using her ability to influence the mind of an adult - making them decide to do something they more or less weren't going to do. She didn't know how this first attempt would turn out, but she knew she had to try anyway. Manipulating these people was going to be the only way she was able to escape this horrendous hell hole. She knew it. Either she worked her arse off and accomplished this goal, or run away. Those seemed to be her only two options when it came down to freedom. She made it to the front hall with all the other "tender aged" children, as the Sisters called them. Sister Eunice shot her a withering look, as they waited for all the other children to arrive. Once the very last child stepped into formation, Sister Eunice brought out a rather plain looking couple, the woman was short and thin with plain brown hair that was as straight as a bone. And her face was shivering with trepidation. Next to her stood a regular looking man with hair that was thinning at the top, and on his face sat a pair of thick lensed glasses.

"Children," said sister Eunice, "These are the Grangers. They're looking to adopt one of you sweet young babies."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at the woman's words, but she kept still, staring at this Mrs. Granger with a concentration that would undoubtedly leave her nursing a migraine. But if it worked, it would be a migraine that was well worth the effort it took to get it. She stared at the woman until the woman noticed her, and once she had, Hermione lured her into a trance. Shouting in her mind as her eyes stayed locked on the older woman's eyes.

 _YOU'RE GOING TO ADOPT ME,_ she chanted in her mind. _YOU'RE GOING TO ADOPT ME,_ she chanted again, and again. She kept chanting it until she saw the woman's eye's visibly glaze over. The woman's attention never left Hermione until her husband nudged her arm and leaned over to whisper in her ear. In that moment Hermione wished that her abilities included super human hearing, because she would LOVE to hear what they were saying to one another. It wasn't until Mrs. Granger lifted her hand and pointed in Hermione's direction, that she discovered that her power worked just as well on adults as it had on the children.

"I want her," she heard the woman say clearly.

"You, what?" Sister Eunice scoffed. "Are you sure you don't want to keep looking? This child is rather-

"No." the woman said firmly. "I'm going to adopt her." she said voice airy and dream-like, echoing Hermione's earlier chant.

"Oh. . . Okay." Sister Eunice said while guiding them back to the Mother Superior's office. "If you'll just follow me, I'll take you back to the office, where you can begin filling out the paperwork."

Hermione stood there perplexed for a moment before a big shit eating grin spread across her face. She'd done it. She'd actually done it. She couldn't believe it, but as she watched the Grangers disappear behind the door to the Mother Superior's office, she took off up the stairs to start packing her belongings. She was finally leaving this hell hole behind. She was finally going to have a better life, or at least she hoped she was.

It took a full two months for the adoption papers to be finalized, and then she was finally able to leave this shithole of an institution. Though not before Hermione could exact the revenge she'd longed for, the entirety of her stay at St. Peter's. On the day that she was finally able to leave with her adoptive parents, she managed to convince Sister Eunice to join her in the chapel room, for one final blessing. . . Upon entering the chapel room, Sister Eunice immediately knew that she had made a grave mistake. Hermione slipped into her mind with great ease, and forced her to kneel down on top of the rock salt Hermione had poured there earlier. The woman shivered with fear, and Hermione could physically see her trembling as she knelt before her.

Hermione crouched down in front of her and smiled wickedly at the woman that had caused her so much pain when she first got here.

"I wonder what's going through your head right now." Hermione said as she studied the woman's sweat drenched face. "Knowing that my face will be the last thing you will see before you die." as she spoke, she pulled a long kitchen knife from the sleeve of her jumper. Hermione ran the tip of the blade over the woman's cheek in mock affection before speaking again. "What _are_ you thinking about right now Eunice? Are you thinking about your family? Perhaps your friends? Maybe you're thinking about all you did to make my life hell, while I lived here? _Or_ ," she said as she pulled the knife from the woman's face and began to trace it over her habit, "Could you be thinking about just how much _you_ want to kill _me_?"

"Jesus Christ," the woman said fearfully as a tear left her eye and began to make it's way down her cheek. Hermione heard the unmistakable sound of someone wetting themselves and she looked down to see a yellow pool had formed around the woman's knees.

"Scared, are you?" Hermione said with a chuckle as she slowly stalked her way around the woman, leaving the woman's line of sight and stepping behind her, and pressing the edge of the blade to the soft tender skin of the nun's throat. "It's okay Eunice," she whispered soothingly, "I won't keep you long from your saviour."

"You won't get away with this," the woman said in a shaky tone, and Hermione could tell she was trying her hardest to sound brave.

"Oh?" She asked as she began to press the knife further into her flesh. "Why won't I?"

"You seriously think you can just kill me and walk away from here, no questions asked?" the woman stammered, "You'll be the first person they all suspect, once they find my body."

Hermione burst out laughing, unable to control the reaction she had to the woman's words.

"What?" the woman started, "What's so funny?"

"You." Hermione finally said once she calmed down, "You really think anyone else here is going to survive after all you've people done to me?" she leaned forward and pressed her lips against the fabric covering the woman's ear and quietly whispered, "Nobody is going to find you here Eunice, because there will be nothing left of any of you to find."

"Wha -" the woman started, before getting cut off by Hermione's sharp movement. She quickly drew the blade over the woman's neck, pressing it as deeply as she could as she went along the skin. She was surprised by how much blood began to pour from the woman's neck, as it flowed down her hands and coated them in the thick viscous fluid. Her heart sped up at the sound of the elder woman's gagging noises, and she moved from behind her, so she could get a better view of what was happening. As she moved around to the front of the woman, she could see the panic in her eyes as she clutched and grasped at her neck, trying to stem the flow of blood as it poured from the wound.

Her nose began to fill with the sweet, coppery scent of blood as she leaned in closely toward her, and pulled her hands away from the wound. She watched as the blood flowed more freely, down the front of the woman's habit and smiled. Hermione met the woman's eyes one final time, before giving her a wink and letting her hands go. Stepping away from the dying woman, she gave her a single wave and began to exit the room to finalize her farewell plans. And when the Grangers came to collect her an hour later, the dark, depressing building she'd called _home_ for the past five years, had burned down to the ground, less than twenty minutes after their car had left the facility, leaving nothing behind of the building besides rubble and the remains of all of it's inhabitants.

* * *

**_3 July 1991_ **

Hermione looked out the window and out into the night sky, wondering just why exactly she had believed adoption was the preferential choice a few years ago, when she'd manipulated the Grangers into adopting her - much the same as she had so many nights before this. She could hear the Grangers, as they talked about her from the other side of her paper thin bedroom door. They were louder than they had ever been before, and she knew her time here would be ending soon. She supposed that it _was_ more than likely time for her to go after the past five years she'd spent with them, repeatedly charming them with her abilities to keep them believing that they had actually _wanted_ to adopt her. She was filled with both a sense of relief and dread at these thoughts. She didn't know how much longer she could stay here, with Mr. Granger giving her those long awkward stares. She knew from some of the stories she'd eavesdropped on while back at the orphanage that some of the occupants weren't left there as a toddler, as she had been. Some of them had lived with relatives before coming there and their stories hadn't been pretty. Like the story of one Julia Greene, when she had told her friends about her uncle and how his long looks turned into touches and that was how she ended up at the orphanage, because she had run away. Luckily, she had never had to worry about those looks the first two years she'd spent living with the Grangers, but the last three years. . .she'd begun feeling as if she needed to watch out for Mr. Granger and his lingering eyes.

Hermione could still remember the rage fueled fear she had been reduced to a few months ago when she heard him fiddling with the doorknob to her bedroom, trying to come into her bedroom in the middle of the night when he believed her to be sleeping. She had been terrified that he would come in as she watched the doorknob while mentally pleading with the door to stay closed. And to her never ending amazement, the door had indeed remained closed, regardless of the fact that it did not have a lock to keep it secured. Hermione felt a shiver creep down her back at the memory. She wanted to kill him then, much the same way she had done with Sister Eunice, but she couldn't. So instead she decided that she would need to run away soon. That there was no other way. If she stayed, she knew something was bound to happen. She could feel it. It was either that, or compel Mrs. Granger into _feeling the desire to add a bit of rat poisoning to her husband's evening tea_. And though she wouldn't particularly mind seeing Mr. Granger six feet in the ground, she didn't want to draw anymore attention to herself and her abilities, especially after she had already burned down the orphanage.

Her mind wondered to thoughts of her biological parents and what her life would be like if she were with them. She wondered if they shared the same abilities as her, or if she would still be considered a freak to them? Had she been thrown away at the orphanage because of her abilities? Hermione didn't know much about her parents, having been left at St. Peters orphanage at the young age of two, and she didn't know if she could even believe what Sister Gertrude had told her about her arrival to the orphanage. She'd told her that she arrived late in the evening and was left there by a tall, thin old man, with a great lengthy beard, a long crooked nose, and light blue eyes, which he kept hidden behind a pair of half moon spectacles. She wondered who the man could have been, due to the description of him by Sister Gertrude, she doubted that the man was her father. Could he have been her grandfather? No, that couldn't be it. Why would her grandparent leave her in the care of an orphanage if he was clearly alive to care for her. And if this old man was the person to leave her at the orphanage, then where were her parents? Were they dead or did they simply not want her?

She was snapped from her train of thought as she began to hear words like _freak_ and _demon_ being thrown around on the other side of her bedroom door, by the two people that had adopted her five years ago.

 _Friday_ , she decided suddenly. She would run away this Friday and get away from this woman and her pervert of a husband.

She awoke the next morning, determined and already beginning to formulate a plan in her mind of how she would accomplish her grand departure. By the time that afternoon arrived she had already had a rough draft on what her plan would be. She would slip the Grangers some of Mrs. Granger's Ambien into their nightly tea in order to make sure that they were good and truly knackered for the evening, so she wouldn't be disturbed when she slipped into their bedroom to swipe some of their money before making her great escape. She knew it would be a long shot to make that happen but was determined to make it happen regardless, and she also knew that in order to do that, she would need to continue to plan.

And she would have run away that Friday had she not received a rather old looking letter addressed to her, with a wax seal on the back, looking like something out of a time machine when it landed in her lap as she lounged beneath a tree in the Granger's backyard. _Curious_ , she thought, ready to throw the envelope out until her curiosity got the better of her. And when she broke the seal to open it, she couldn't help but to smile triumphantly at what she read on the first page.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. A professor from this institution will arrive at your home tomorrow afternoon in order to introduce you to the magical world, as well as help you and your parents with a tour of Diagon Alley. They will also be able to answer any and all questions that you or your guardian(s) may have.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

_Minerva McGonagall_

Deputy Headmistress

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the love and support <3\. I hope you all love this chapter, please don't forget to R&R to let me know what you all think!

The next day found Hermione waiting impatiently for the Grangers to leave for work so she could begin preparing for the visit from one of the Professors.

The moment they stepped out of the door, Hermione rushed around the house preparing herself for the arrival of this professor. She had known all her life that she was different from those around her. That she was  _better_  than them. After all, none of them could do what she could, and now she was finding out that there was a whole world out there filled with people like her. It was an exciting, yet terrifying discovery. Exciting because now she knew for a fact that she wasn't as alone in this world as she previously believed, and terrifying because she didn't know whether or not her magic would pale in comparison to those that had been given the chance to grow up in that world.

She wouldn't let her insecurities dampen the discovery of her magic though, so she decided to tamp it down as she prepared both herself and the Granger's home for this afternoon's visit. And by the time she was ready for the professor's arrival she had thoroughly squashed the feelings of inferiority that had been plaguing her ever since she discovered that there was a magical world she hadn't had the chance to grow up in. Now, it was all she could do to keep herself from bursting with excitement as she waited for the arrival of the professor. But she wasn't going to let her excitement blind her from the possibility that all of this could more or less be an elaborate trap set up by the Grangers in order to send her off to an institution of some sort. 

 _It_ would _honestly be rather brilliant of them_ , she thought, to convince her with some ridiculous letter that someone was coming along to whisk her away to some fanciful place, only to be carted off to a government facility and subjected to all forms of experiments. It was something that she knew she would do, if placed in a similar situation to them. So she hid a butcher knife in between the seat cushions of the couch as a second line of defense, should her powers fail her. Even if she wasn't able to do much, she knew she would gut at least one person, before she would ever allow herself to be apprehended.

Hermione wanted it all to be true though, she didn't want to believe that the Grangers could be so disillusioned with her that they would orchestrate such an elaborate scheme just to get rid of her, and if they  _did_. . . she knew they wouldn't enjoy her response to their treachery. Hermione shook her head in an attempt to stop her negative thoughts, she tried thinking about everything that would happen if the letter was actually authentic. If it was, then that meant that she really truly was a witch, and this upcoming fall she would be entering a world filled with magic and taught how to properly control her own magic. Hermione hoped it would be just as wondrous as she was imagining.

She wondered what the professor would be like - if there  _was_  an actual teacher coming - she wondered if they would be a man or a woman. She wondered what they would look like when she finally saw another witch or wizard. Hermione just couldn't wait to get her first glimpse of what a magical person was like. Would they be wearing a big pointy hat - like they were often depicted to do in old lore - or would they perhaps be dressed in cloaks and medieval clothing? She sincerely hoped not. If someone showed up at her home wearing some ridiculous looking frock, one of the Granger's nosy neighbors would certainly end up calling the police. She hoped that whomever came, knew to dress relatively normal, even if wizarding fashion might not adhere to this world's societal standards.

As the minutes continued to tick by, she found herself wondering what the magical world would be like. Oh she could just imagine what wonderful treasures awaited her once she finally had the chance to enter the magical world, surely it would be filled with an assortment of informative books on a variety of subjects - especially if the school supply list was anything to go by - perhaps there would even be incredible magically enchanted items and artifacts there as well, like perhaps the Necronomicon she'd read about in H.P Lovecraft's books or even Nicolas Flamel's philosopher's stone. Hermione wondered idly if witches and wizards had museums in their world, she hoped that they did for her sake, as she would love to learn as much as she could about wizarding life and history.

She was torn from her thoughts, by the sound of a loud firm knock on the front door. Hermione rushed over to the door and smoothed her hands over her errant curls and down her body. Trying to make sure she looked presentable before she opened the door. With a deep breath, she reached forward and opened the door, only to be met with the image of a man whom was dressed impeccably, in a black three piece suit. He had shoulder-length, greasy looking hair, sallow skin and a hooked nose, but even though his face was quite homely looking, he wasn't completely unattractive to look at. Mainly due to his smart looking clothes giving him a dark, mysterious, almost debonair look. She knew instantly that this was the person that was set to meet with her today due to the odd feeling she felt in the air surrounding him. Almost like it was electrically charged.

"Miss Granger?" he asked, in a stiff yet silky sort of voice. Hermione decided right then that as far as first impressions went, this dark well dressed man was well on his way to making a good one, but she still didn't fully trust him yet.

"Yes, sir." She said, confirming her identity while keeping her tone soft and respectful, and her posture perfectly ramrod straight. She guessed that she must've satisfied him though because after a moment or two of looking her over, he gave her a firm nod and gestured for him to be let inside the house.

"My name is Professor Snape," he introduced himself to her as he walked into the Granger's home and made his way over towards the living room and its furniture, "And I am the Head of Slytherin House."

 _What the hell_? Hermione thought watching him as he walked around the living room carefully looking for a seat to sit in - he decided on the arm chair that Mr. Granger seemed to favour most - and she hoped that it wasn't an omen of something bad concerning the man. After all, he had just told her that he was the  _Head_  of a house called  _slither-in_? She felt herself become almost overwhelmed with the intense desire to ask him to clarify just what he meant exactly by 'Slither-in' House, it sounded quite perverted, and she found herself sliding her hand between the couch cushions to touch the knife for a moment, in order to help her feel a little more secure around the man. She was still uncertain of his intentions, magical or not, he could very well still be just as perverted as George Granger. But she made sure to keep her mouth shut, as she sat there, lightly caressing the cool blade of the knife.

Though the main reason she remained silent, was so she could assess the man, and she could tell by the look on his face, that he was doing the very same thing. She could also tell by looking at him, that this man had razor thin patience - a look which he conveyed through a face that reminded her vaguely of the look she often saw on the face of the  _late_  Sister Eunice - and she deduced that the man was  _not_  meeting with her by choice. So she swiftly decided that a quick and brief interaction would be the way to go if she wanted to remain on his good side, and instead of asking the hundreds of questions she had mentally prepared earlier in the day for the man, she choose to keep it simple and ask the two she deemed most important. 

Professor Snape seemed to be pleased by her silence, just as she assumed he would be, and continued on. "Deputy Headmistress McGonagall," he said, pausing briefly to frown at the name, and Hermione considered that perhaps the person he was referring to, was also the same person who was supposed to be meeting her today - which would explain the look of impatience he wore on his face while he spoke, " - was apparently too busy for this particular trip, so I've been sent in her place to answer any questions you might have today." As he finished speaking, Hermione felt herself become secretly pleased at the fact she had essentially been able to deduce what the man was about to say, just by the look on his face. _Maybe the magical world won't be so different after all_ , she thought before clearing her throat and speaking.

"Just two questions, if you don't mind." Hermione said, keeping her voice light and polite with her hands folded daintily in her lap. She decided to address the issue of finances first, after all, she had no intention of telling the Grangers about her magic or the fact that she had been accepted to an institution that specialized in teaching people how to use it. The Grangers already saw her as a freak, so there was no need to give them any confirmation of such thoughts. As far as she was concerned, she would just make them believe she had run away. "Well, I don't know how else to say this sir, so I suppose I'll have no other choice than to put it all rather bluntly. You see, my family doesn't have much money. So we can't afford any school fees, sir."

"Oh," he said somewhat dismissively with a wave of his hand and an uncomfortable look on his face. "There's really no need to worry about any of that. There's a fund the school has set up specifically for muggleborn families who cannot afford Hogwarts. It covers tuition costs as well as a stipend for uniform and supply costs," Professor Snape said with a grimace, though his look quickly shifted to one that was sharp and assessing. "Though I am left to wonder why it is exactly, that you need financial assistance. You see, this is a rather nice house Miss Granger, so it doesn't make much sense that your parents would be unable to afford these costs."

She was impressed with his observational skills, but irritated by his use of the word  _muggleborn_ in reference to herself. The word taking her mind back to that day at the zoo when she'd heard the disdainful way the snake used the word  _muggle_  when he was trying to get to Sister Eunice. She didn't know what it was about that word that made her angry, but she couldn't deny the fact that it had. Perhaps she needed to make a trip down to the London Zoo in order to see if her old snake pal was still there, and ask him what it meant before she started school at Hogwarts. Shaking off this new strange feeling, she decided to put on her game face. Hermione wasn't going to crumble under the scrutiny of this man, now that he apparently had questions of his own.

"This house was left to them from an uncle. So I wouldn't use this as the bases to determine their wealth, sir." Hermione said sweetly.

"Speaking of parents,  _where_  are your parents today?"

"They're currently at work, sir and couldn't take any time off." Hermione lied glibly without missing a beat, her voice and body language genuine as she spoke. Though she could tell that Professor Snape looked like he didn't believe a word she said, but he still refrained from commenting.

"Do you have any more questions for me Miss Granger?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes. Just one," she said, looking up at him curiously, "When I read the letter it mentioned something about a place called Diagon Alley, but was rather vague in what or where exactly that was...?" She continued, letting her voice trail off a bit as she stared at the older man, and at her question Professor Snape nodded.

"Diagon Alley is a shopping district in Charing Cross. You can access it through a pub called the Leakey Cauldron. Essentially, it's the place that you'll be going to in order to procure both your school funds as well as supplies. I can take you and your parents there today to help you acquire your school things, if need be."

"No." Hermione said quickly, hoping she didn't make the man suspicious with her quick refusal, "That will be quite unnecessary, sir, though I do want to thank you for your kind offer. But I really don't want to use up any more of your time then I already have," she smiled politely, "My family knows where Charing Cross road is, so I'm quite comfortable doing everything myself if you just give me the address."

"In that case," Professor Snape said looking relieved, "When you enter the pub, go to the bar and ask the bartender, Tom, to show you the entrance." He told her, inspecting her face to make sure she understood him and she nodded in response. "Surely you have other questions, Miss Granger?" He asked a few moments later when she stayed silent, contemplating everything he had just told her.

Of course there were questions she wanted to ask the man. She wanted to know everything there was to know about magic and the world she was getting ready to enter, but instead of opening her mouth and asking him any thing, she looked at him and conjured up her best smile before saying, "No sir, whatever questions I have, I'm sure there are books covering those subjects."

"Very good," he said with a nod of his head before asking her for a pen and a sheet of paper.

"What do you need that for?" she asked him, but moved to grab the pen and paper nonetheless.

"To give you the address to the Leakey Cauldron, of course," he drawled before scribbling it down and sliding it across the coffee table to her. Hermione took the scrap of paper quickly and scanned her eyes over it as the elder man stood, and pulled a small bronze key from his pocket. "Now when you enter Diagon Alley, one of the first buildings you see, will be Gringotts Bank. It's impossible for you to miss it. Its very large and straight up the walkway once you enter the alley. When you get to Gringotts, present this key to one of the goblins on duty and they'll provide you with the assigned amount. Owl this key back to Hogwarts once you arrive back home"

 ** _Goblins_ _?_**  Her head was spinning at the thought. There were goblins, actual  _goblins_ , in the wizarding world?! Like the one's from the fairy tales written by The Brother's Grimm that she used to read on days when she felt fed up enough with the orphanage to sneak out and go to the library. Hermione's mind was reeling, even as she stood up and accepted the key, she wondered what other creatures she would see when she got to Diagon Alley. "Thank you." She said to the professor absentmindedly, her mind thinking about vampires, werewolves, manticores, and any other mythical creature that might actually exist in the wizarding world, as she took the key from him and saw him out. Making sure to add in a, "Good bye, sir," for good measure as he walked out the house and disappeared up the street. It was only after he'd left, that she realized that she didn't ask him about how much the impoverished  _muggleborn_  fund would be - cringing at the word as the thought flowed through her mind. She admittedly didn't know what the word meant, but she did know that she didn't enjoy being called one. But if Professor Snape's face - while he was discussing the fund - was any indication on how much it would be, she wasn't expecting it to be much.

Now she had even more to think about now that she'd spoken with Professor Snape.

* * *

**5 Hours Earlier - Hogwarts Castle: Dumbledore's POV**

He flipped through the names on the Hogwarts list, furiously searching for the last name  _Delird_  as he went over name after name of the students that would be starting school this term.

 _Abbott, Hannah_  
_Bones, Susan_  
_Boot, Trevor_  
_Brocklehurst, Mandy_  
_Brown, Lavender_  
_Bulstrode, Millicent_

He skipped ahead, with a frustrated sigh until he reached the only name attached to a surname that began with a D.

 _Davis, Tracey,_  he knew that name. While the girl was indeed a halfblood, she wasn't the halfblood that he was looking for. With a quick scan over the rest of the names, he saw that there was no Delird in sight. Good, he thought with a smile. Her magic must still be bound, hence the reason why she hadn't made the list, and hopefully it would remain so. The girl was simply no good, and had no place in the magical world, not with who her parents were. She was the spawn of evil itself, and he wasn't going to let the same mistake happen twice.

He remembered the night he took that child away, and dumped her at one of the only orphanages left in London. It was a rather fitting end to his adversary's story, if he said so himself. To have striven for thirty six years, to erase his muggle background and become the darkest wizard in history, only to be thwarted - by yours truly - and have his own child forced to grow up living the life that he should have had, had he not gone down to that Merlin forsaken orphanage and informed him of his magic in the first place. Dumbledore thought it to be the ultimate form of cosmic justice. Ending things where they all began.

What made it all even better, was the fact that Albus knew that he was preventing another Dark witch in the making. The wizarding world did  _not_  need another Bellatrix Lestrange, or worse even, another witch like the girl's mother. Albus felt a shiver go up his spine at the mere thought of the woman. He had never seen a witch with that amount of skill in dark magic, and he knew that the woman would raise her daughter to be the exact same. He could still remember the day The Order ambushed her Wiltshire estate and put that vile miserable beast in the ground, shortly before he did the same with her demented husband Tom. Albus had not been surprised when he saw just how beautiful the woman was - Tom always did have a penchant for collecting pretty things as a way to show off his status as a supposed Dark  _Lord_.

She was a petite woman, with beautiful blonde curls that seemed to crackle with unspent magical energy, and her green eyes seemed to glimmer in the moonlight like emeralds. What had surprised Albus however, was the witch's skill at dueling. When they had arrived and secured her familiar, he felt that it was a sign that what would follow would also be relatively easy as well. That couldn't have been further from reality, and as battle ensued he knew that she was going to put up one hell of a fight. Essentially proving to him, her skill as one of the best duelists he had ever seen or encountered. She fought like an elegant dancer, seeming to glide around the marble floors as if she were in the middle of a fine waltz - spinning and twirling as she dodged each spell sent her way, before firing off three or four of her own. And even with several people dueling against her, she still managed to hold her own against them all. With everyone so caught up in the fierce battle against Riddle's wife, nobody noticed him slipping away from the fight in order to search the rest of the house.

That was when he found her. The girl was standing just a few meters in front of him, in the dimly lit hall, wearing a small satin night gown and dragging a blanket behind her. And even in the poor lighting of the hallway, he could make out a look of pure hatred on her face - having seen it so many times on the girl's own father during his time in his class back at Hogwarts. As Albus continued to take in the sight of what he knew had to be Tom Riddle's child, he noted that even if he hadn't known who her parents were, it would've been easy for him to guess just based on how she looked. She was little, no more than about two years old, if he had to guess, and even at that young age, he could pick out traits from her parents. Her hair was still baby fine looking and fell to just her shoulders, but it was dark like her father's with slight curls at the ends - a sign of her mother's curls to come. Her eyes were identical to her mother's though, and if it weren't for the glare she was giving him, the tiny girl would've definitely had him fooled. He could tell that without that frown marring her features that the girl was unnaturally beautiful and that she would one day be as charming as her soon to be,  _late_  parents. For a moment, he even found himself starting to think that she might perhaps be just as sweet as her face suggested, that was, until she raised her hand and promptly sent him stumbling a few meters back down the hall, with a vicious snarl escaping her lips.

"You're hurting my mummy!" the little girl yelled out angrily, and Albus was shocked by how articulate she was. The child didn't have the usual lisp that most children that age had.

"No we're not," Albus lied, "We're only trying to help you  _and_  your mummy."

" _LIAR_!" she screamed and Albus was taken aback by the amount of magical energy he felt exuding from the girl in that moment. The chubby cheeked, curly-haired cutie was gone, and in her place was a small hell-cat, almost as vicious as the one fighting his team a few halls down. Albus watched as her hair began to spark and crackle with unreleased magical energy - just like her mother - and he knew in that moment that she was far stronger than the average wizarding child.

Before Albus could feed her another one of his lies, he was tossed further down the hall - this time much more forcefully than the last. He stood once more, wondering whether or not he should draw his wand before quickly deciding against it. This was a child, for Merlin's sake, he didn't need his wand to take care of her.

"Child - he began before getting cut off.

"MY NAME IS,  _MORGANA_!" She screamed once more, and out of nowhere the bottom of his robes caught fire.

Not wasting another moment, Albus drew his wand and immediately extinguished the flames.  _No more mister nice guy_ , thought Albus as he trained his wand on the girl, _the little bitch had just tried to burn him alive_.

"Petrificus Totalus!" He bellowed and watched as the child's body went rigid before crumpling to the floor.

Once she hit the floor, Albus began to slowly close the distance between them. As he approached her, he could see that she was just a scared little girl, probably wondering what was going on in her home and why people were there fighting her mother. He pitied her. Albus knew without a doubt that she couldn't possibly have the life a normal child should. With parents like hers, her life was more than likely spent learning dark magic. It had to be, especially if what he had just experienced was any indication.

He should just kill her, Merlin knew it would make things infinitely easier. No one else from the Order even knew of her existence, which would certainly make the task of killing her far easier. Knowing he wouldn't incur any punishment if he did, because Tom had tried so hard to keep her well hidden, that no one else knew about her. Just as Albus went to raise his wand to her, another thought came to mind - one he knew would serve as poetic justice for this entire shit storm her father had started. All he needed to do was find an orphanage... But first, he had to make sure she wasn't able to break his charm, and he had no doubt that she more than likely could with the amount of power she had already exhibited.

His ears perked up and he tried to listen out for sounds of continued spell fire. He didn't want anyone coming along while he did this.  _This move alone was enough to have him tossed in Azkaban_ , Albus thought nervously as he pondered over his plan for a moment, he knew taking a witch or wizard's magic in such a way, was considered to be a crime against magic itself but he felt like it would be the proper ending to Tom Riddle's story. He checked over his shoulder one more time before pointing his wand directly between her eyes and whispered, " _Magus P_ _raeligo_."

He looked at her for a moment before hoisting the paralyzed girl up and over his shoulder and scurried down the hall in search of a room to leave her in. Depositing her in the first room he came across, Albus quickly turned back around, and headed back into the fray to help James, Alastor, Sirius, Frank, Alice, and Arthur finally take down this relentless animal of a woman. Once he arrived back at the room, he was met with an alarming site; James, Alastor, Sirius and Arthur were all sprawled out on the floor and he didn't know if they were dead or alive. She had Frank and Alice Longbottom at the end of her wand, firing spell after spell at the two as they rolled around the floor in pain.

"You dare come into my home and threaten me  _and_  my child," she yelled out, before slipping into parseltongue and hissing out a spell.

She released a series of hisses as she pointed her wand at the two and he fought to control the gasp that threatened to leave his lips when he came to the realization that the woman was speaking in parseltongue, though Albus still had no idea what she was doing. And out of his own curiosity, he decided not to intervene, and instead he watched her. He had never seen anyone perform parsel magic, and his curiosity could hardly be hidden from his face. He watched with rapt attention as a red jet of light shot out of her wand and into the whimpering man on the floor before turning and doing the same to his wife. He was lost at first, wondering what exactly she had just done to them, just before he witnessed the both of them begin to start babbling and cackling madly with one another, it was as if they had both just lost their minds - and he later discovered that a month later that they had indeed gone mad that day.

Albus watched on in great interest as two of the best Aurors he knew began to bang their heads against the floor, screaming nonsensical things.

With her back still turned to the man, he was shocked when she began speaking to him, especially since he had never heard her speaking voice before then.

"Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to dual me as well, Albus?" she asked him in a deceptively light, accented tone.

Dumbledore was pulled from his memory by the sound of a throat clearing, and lifted his head to see who it was, only to be met with the image of the man that currently held the position as Head of Slytherin house.

"You called," the dark haired man drawled.

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore began, walking around his desk in order to have a seat. "I've tasked Minerva with meeting the head of the department of magical education this morning, but before she left, she told me that she had a meeting scheduled for today with one of our incoming muggleborn students."

"I fail to see how this involves me."

"Well you see Severus, I need you to meet with this student in her stead." Dumbledore explained, slowly. The growl he got in response was one he already expected. "Severus, you are a Halfblood wizard with a good understanding of the muggle world, you're honestly the only other option. If I send Fillius, the child is bound to have a heart attack."

"And why can't  _you_  go to this meeting?" the dour man questioned.

"Because I have a meeting with Cornelius in about an hour to discuss the impending arrival of our young hero, Mister Potter and you know how these meetings tend to carry on." Dumbledore said nonchalantly.

Snape stood there glowering for a moment before finally opening his mouth to respond, "Fine," he bit out, "What's the student's name?"

Dumbledore stopped to look at the sheet of parchment where the names of incoming students were written before saying, "Granger. Her name is Hermione Granger."

With that the man swept out of the room without another word, essentially ending the conversation and leaving Dumbledore to think about the child that should've been entering Hogwarts this year. Morgana Riddle or in the muggle world Baby Girl Delird. Damn, he probably should've given her a first name in order to make her easier to find, but the only female name to come to mind at the time was Ariana and it would be a cold day in muggle hell before he gifted such a creature with his sweet sister's name.

Maybe it was time he went down to Saint Peter's Orphanage to check in on the child and make sure she wasn't wreaking havoc on those around her. After all, the only thing he did was place a block on her magic, that would do nothing for the girl's personality, especially if she was anything like her parents.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy!! Please Read and Review :).

Hermione decided to wait until the rest of the weekend had passed before heading down to Charing Cross Road. Bright and early Monday morning, she got up and watched the Grangers as they got ready to leave for work. She wore a duchenne smile on her face - all of her perfect white teeth on full display as she went about the kitchen making herself a light breakfast to start her day. It was perhaps the first true smile that had graced her face, in all of her life, she thought for a moment as she watched the two idiots leave. The moment the lock caught, she got up and went to ready herself for the day.

Leisurely, she perused her clothing, trying to decide how she should be dressed for her first time entering the wizarding world and taking her time as she did so - wanting to look her absolute best for her first trip into the wizarding world. She picked out an olive green three quarter sleeve jumper- green was, after all, her favourite colour - and it was a light breathable fabric so she was confident that it would do well in this English summer weather. With it, she also took out a pair of black form fitting trousers and black ballet flats to complete her look.

Once satisfied with her choice of clothing, Hermione gathered her toiletries and headed off to the bathroom for a shower. She made sure to spend a little extra time in there, to ensure that she received the desired results from the conditioner she had applied to her hair at the start of her shower. Hopefully there would be far more convenient magical solutions in the wizarding world that she could use to control her unruly mop of hair. After rinsing out her hair and towel drying it, she went and got dressed in her chosen outfit before making a brief stop to the master bedroom and leaving the house. Hermione made her way down to Hampstead station and jumped on the next train headed down towards Leicester Square Tube Station.

After an eighteen minute ride on the tube, she arrived at Charing Cross road and began to search for the Leaky Cauldron. It was a relatively warm day, so she was definitely glad for her choice of clothing as she walked up the bustling street, searching for the address she had been given. Hermione walked through the crowd with confidence as she sought out the pub, and she kept going until she came across a tiny, grubby-looking establishment. Hermione noticed that after she had found it that the people walking past the pub never even cast their eyes in the direction of the building.

The people bustling around, seemed to only notice the giant book shop to the left side of the pub and the record shop on the right, completely disregarding the establishment that would lead her into the wizarding world. After a moment of silent observation, Hermione soon realized that she  _was_  the only one around that could actually see the establishment.  _What a wonderful bit of magic_ , Hermione thought as she walked towards the front door of the building, thinking of how brilliant it was for them to hide an entrance to the wizarding world in plain sight like this. She would need to look into that more when she got to the other side.  _Hopefully there would be a book on the subject in the same store as her school books_ , she thought as she pushed the door open and frowned at the interior of the building. The interior of the pub was severely underwhelming in her opinion, it was just as shabby and ran down on the inside as it was on the outside. As she looked around, she saw a few people sitting around drinking different kinds of drinks.

None of them were as immaculately dressed as Professor Snape, she thought as her eyes trailed over the few patrons seated around the bar. At the moment, she could hardly say that she was impressed, all of them looked so dreadfully  _ordinary_. Walking deeper into the grubby looking pub, her eyes landed on the first intriguing thing of the day. Seated in a dimly lit corner of the bar was a man, he was finely dressed with a purple turban of some sort wrapped around his head. The turban was unlike anything she had ever seen before on any of the Sikh people that lived in her neighborhood. It was wrapped around his head in an awkward sort of way, so she doubted that it was worn for any sort of religious reason. The man was hunched over his table with a drink held in his hands and he seemed to be in deep thought.

As she made her way up to the bar, the man suddenly looked up from his drink and locked eyes with her for a moment. The moment their eyes connected Hermione felt what she could only describe as a tingling feeling throughout her body. Discomfited by the strange feeling she tore her eyes away from the man and continued in measured steps towards the bar. Shaking her head, she dismissed the feeling and stood up proudly, she wasn't going to shy away from someone simply because he  _looked_  at her. A _fter all_ , she thought,  _he would probably be terrified of her, if he'd known what she had done to the people who had crossed her_. She highly doubted that he had done anything like burning down a building filled with women and children, killing everyone inside. She looked over to where the man was seated again and was disappointed to see that he was back to looking down at his drink. Once she finally stepped up to the bar she noticed a bald, toothless man standing behind the counter, talking to another patron and approached him cautiously.

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked to draw the man's attention to her.

"Yeah," he said, turning to face her with a questioning look on his face.

"I was told to come here and ask for a fellow named Tom, would you happen to be him sir?" she asked politely.

"Yeah," he said repeating his earlier response. "I'm Tom." he continued, looking at her appraisingly as he spoke.

"Brilliant!" she said, feeling genuinely happy that she had found the right man on her first try. "I need your assistance crossing into Diagon Alley, if you please," she continued, making sure to plaster on a smile as she spoke.

"Oh, that's it?" he laughed, before excusing himself from his previous conversation and moving from behind the counter. "Follow me little lady." he said as he made his way to the back, Hermione hot on his heels as he moved. She followed him to a small courtyard where he paused in front of a large brick wall.

" _This_ ," he said grandly before pulling out his wand and tapping it against the wall three times and stepping back. "Is Diagon Alley," he continued and Hermione watched in sheer amazement as the brick wall he had just tapped began to quiver - starting with the brick he tapped and moving outward from there. Each brick that made up the wall began to wriggle and shake until a small hole began to appear directly in the middle of the wall. It seemed to be folding itself outward, as the bricks shifted and the hole began to grow wider and wider to the point where a person would be able to pass through it. Before she knew it, that small hole had transformed into a large archway, which led out onto a cobble stoned street that looked endless with all the twists and turns she could make out from where she stood. Hermione completely forgot about the bartender as she crossed the archway and made her way through to the other side.

Diagon Alley was something of a dream, she noted as she made her way down the alley, and Hermione had to stop herself from pinching her skin, just to make sure it was all real. It was a truly wondrous place, and was filled with some of the most unusual looking people Hermione had ever seen before. All of them were dressed in robes like they were going to a costume party or something, and the streets were alive and bustling with magic - she could feel it all around her like a warm, comfy blanket. She ran her hands over her buoyant brown curls in order to smooth them, and made sure to stand tall and proud as she walked down the street, noticing the curious eyes that followed her as she did so.

Hermione knew that she was considered by many to be a very beautiful child, with her heart-shaped face and big rich green doe eyes, all of which was framed by her wildly curly hair - she was fully aware that her beauty was appreciated by those both young and old outside of the wizarding world, and she was beyond pleased to note that the same could be said for those inhabiting the magical world as well. Hermione was far too used to being told how beautiful of a child she was, with strangers stopping her adoptive parents all the time, in order to compliment them on her beauty —  _as_   _if_   _they_   _actually_   _had_   _a_   _hand_   _in_   _her_   _genetics_. She was vain enough to admit that she enjoyed knowing that her looks were adored on both sides of the Leaky Cauldron, and today was no exception. Though her curls did look far more tame than usual due to the work of that ridiculous amount of conditioner she had applied to her hair earlier, and a few of Mrs. Granger's hair pins. Her mass of wild curls flowed freely down her back and around her shoulders, bouncing against her back with every step she took, and as she walked she kept her eyes peeled for the bank professor Snape told her of.

Gringotts was precisely the way Professor Snape described it to her. It certainly was a building that one couldn't possibly miss. It was a large, imposing snow-white multi-storied marble building located partway down Diagon Alley and it completely towered over all of the other neighbouring shops. As she approached the stairs of the bank, she noticed that it was located near an intersection that led to a dimly lit shopping district called 'Knockturn Alley'. It looked very interesting, but she figured that she could give it a look once she finished her shopping.

She flounced up the stairs and into the bank with the confidence of someone that belonged in the wizarding world. She marched up to the counter where she was momentarily shocked by the appearance of the bank tellers. All of them were short, and fair-skinned with very long fingers and feet. They had dome shaped heads with pointed noses, and pointed ears. Hermione was somewhat taken aback by their dark, slanted eyes though, because it gave them the appearance of someone that was possessed by a demon. She thought it all to be rather fascinating and found herself wanting to ask them a few questions, but squashed the feeling when a rather snarly looking goblin approached the counter where she stood.

"What is your business at Gringotts on this day witch?" The goblin at the desk asked her.

"I've come to get money from the Hogwarts Fund for underprivileged children." She said and couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly at that statement. She hated being thought of as someone who was "underprivileged" no matter how true it was.

"Your name?" the goblin asked as he extended his hand for the key.

"Hermione Jean Delird, though I'm certain that they'll have me marked down as Hermione Jean Granger instead."

"Granger," he said with a thoughtful look, almost as if he was searching the Rolodex of names he had stored in his head. "Ah, yes Miss Granger," he said at last, "That'll get you just about twenty galleons. But I must warn you, that won't exactly get you very far." the Goblin said as he took the bronze key and handed it to another teller with instructions to get the funds from the proper vault.

"I'm surprised they even bother to tell children to come down here and waste their time, for that pathetic amount of spending money they try to give us." She scoffed. "Surely for a school so grand and noble, they could afford to provide underprivileged children with a few more galleons than just a measly twenty. The supplies on this list alone, I'm certain will far exceed the amount we're provided with."

At this the goblin laughed before turning back to Hermione with a nasty looking scowl and saying, "Well what do you expect from wizards?  _Especially_  when there is money involved. . . Come to think of it. . . when you consider how much the school receives in charitable donations yearly, you would be quite right about the stipend being a pathetic sum, but what do I care if wizards desire to be close-fisted with one another." He gave her an assessing look, slanted eyes traveling from the top of her curly head and down to the soles of her shoes. "However I do suspect that you might have already considered all of this and came here with the intention of getting more than just this preallocated stipend."

"Perhaps you might be correct." she said with a shrug as she saw the other goblin return, carrying a small looking change purse pinched between his bony little fingers.

"Twenty galleons for Miss Hermione Jean Granger." He said, passing it over the desk along with the bronze key she had handed him. Hermione pocketed the key and pulled out eight fifty pound notes that she had previously  _liberated_  from Mr. Granger's wallet, and slid it over the counter to the goblin. "Can I by chance have these exchanged for galleons?" she asked.

"Yes, of course." he said, snatching the bills from the counter and handing it to the goblin that had previously retrieved her pathetic stipend from the Hogwarts fund. The goblin disappeared and reappeared rather quickly, passing a larger sized change purse to the goblin manning the desk.

"How much is that going to be?" Hermione asked as she reached for the purse.

"That will be one hundred seventy three galleons, eight sickles, and eleven knuts." he said, as he dropped the purse into her palm.

"Thank you sir." she said with a grin as she bent to place both purses deep in her pocket for safe keeping, before zipping it shut. The goblin gave her another rotten look in return and called out for the next customer standing in the queue. Hermione patted the pocket holding her monies once more, before leaving the bank. Blinking slightly to adjust her eyes to the sunlight, she quickly went over the list mentally, deciding to first tackle what she deemed necessities. Her first stop would be Ollivander's of course. After all, a witch needed her wand, right?

Yes, that would be her first stop, she decided, making her way down the cobbled stoned street, neck long, chest out and proudly strutting as if she had always belonged here in the first place. She approached the wand shop, Ollivander's, and saw that it was a quite, quaint little shop, as she stepped inside. Looking along the walls, she saw long, slim boxes lining the shelves, not much different than how one would see books lining shelves in a library.

"Hello?" she asked, as she approached the tall dusty counter in the center of the shop.

"Another young Hogwarts student, I presume," she heard a man say from a back store room.

"Your presumption would be correct sir." she said with a well practiced smile.

An old looking man with large, luminescent eyes, stepped out from the store room and gave her a small smile. He approached the counter and gave her a long assessing look, with a sharpness to his eyes that she hadn't previously noticed before.

"Let's see," he said, turning sharply on his heel and marching over to one of the shelves. He pulled a long dark box out from the pile and swept back across the room to where she stood. "Here, try this." he said, as he removed the wand from the box and presented it to her.

Hermione wrapped her hand around the wand, and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to instruct her on what she needed to do next.

"Well?" he asked, "Do you feel anything?"

"Feel, anything?" she questioned.

"Yes, yes," he said, taking the wand from her and placing it back into its box. "When you find your wand, you will be able to feel it, and it's connection to your magic."

Hermione nodded in understanding, and watched as he shuffled around looking for another box.

"Here," he said, opening another box, this one made of a dark red velvet. Inside the box, nestled on top of black satin, was a lovely looking wand made of a black looking wood.

Excitedly, she dug her hand into the box, caressing the smooth, freshly polished looking wood, only to pull her hand back in disappointment.

"Nothing, again." She said sullenly.

Ollivander began shaking his head and muttering something under his breath about blackwood trees definitely not being the way to go, already walking away to grab another box. As they went through more and more wands, Hermione could feel herself getting more and more angry with the old man with each failed attempt. Finally, Ollivander disappeared into his back store room and produced a dark green box containing a wand made out of a wood that appeared to be almost as white as bone.

Honestly not expecting anything at this point, Hermione lazily reached out to touch the handle of the wand and gasped in pleasure as a deliciously warm feeling rushed up her arm and flowed through her body. "This is it," she told him happily as she wrapped her hand more firmly around the wand, letting the pleasurable feeling settle over her before she looked back up to the older man. The wand maker gave her a hesitant smile, and she began to wonder what was wrong.

"Hmm," the man said, "I wasn't expecting that."

"What?" she questioned.

"That wand has been sitting in my store room for about sixty two years now," he told her and Hermione rolled her eyes at his attempt to skirt around her question.

"While that is an interesting bit of information about my wand, it doesn't explain the look you had when I made my connection to it." she said matter of factly, knowing damn well that that wasn't the issue.

"Well. . . that's a wand that came about when I was young, dumb and trying to make a name for myself - outside of my family name - by expanding the boarders of wand making." he said with what sounded like a regretful sigh. "During that time I tried my hand at multiple wand making techniques, techniques that were unheard of, banned, or of my own making. Many of which produced wands that were extremely volatile - in terms of power that is."

"And I take it that my wand is from that small collection of yours?" she queried, now even more interested in her wand than she had previously been.

"Yes, its actually the last of them," he said with a tired look on his face. "I had to destroy the others."

"You destroyed the others? Why?" she asked, before looking down at her wand, "What was so special about mine that you decided to keep it?"

"Yours is the last wand I made from that time of my life. And while it might be terribly powerful in terms of strength, its the only one out of the few that wasn't completely unstable." the wand maker looked into the box where her wand sat, an almost reverent expression on his face."This wand is not your common variety wand, you see. It's made of Yew with a dual core of phoenix feather and dragon heartstring, 13 inches even in length, equally capable of healing and cursing, and it'll be faithfully unyielding no matter the circumstance." Ollivander said, looking back up to meet her eyes. "You're going to be a very powerful witch Miss Riddle, destined to make a name for yourself in this world. I just hope you won't be remembered in infamy."

"My last name isn't Riddle, it's Delird," she said with a confused look in her eye. Though the wand maker said nothing more. He simply turned around and walked back into his store room. Hermione took the box and left the shop, pleased that the old fool had forgotten to ask her for payment of the wand.  _Oh well_ , she thought,  _more galleons for me_. With a smile, Hermione lifted the wand and rolled it around in her hands, soaking in the feel of it, letting the wood warm under her touch as she marched off in search of the book store Flourish and Blotts.

She had a full day of shopping ahead of her and wasn't going to let the wand maker's strange words distract her from enjoying her first excursion into the wizarding world. She didn't stop to think about the wand maker's words until well after she arrived back to the Granger's home and began hiding her supplies for school around her bedroom, her mind flitting back to what the strange man had told her. She was deeply confused by some of what he said, but for the most part she preened under the memory of him prophetically telling her how powerful she would become as a witch.

But she couldn't stop thinking about how he had called her _Miss Riddle_ , and the knowing look she had seen on his face when he did so.

* * *

 **Saint Peter's:** **Dumbledore's POV**

To say Albus was startled by the fact that the orphanage had burned down to nothing more than ash and rubble, was a complete and total understatement. In fact he was actually quite alarmed by this latest development. If this place had burned down, he needed to know how it happened. He needed to ensure that if the fire had been a result of that little beast, that she at least went down with it. But how to go about it? All he had was the fictitious last name he created for the girl, and nothing more. He took another look at the debris filled lot, before releasing a growl of frustration and anger at his own overconfidence. Not for the first time, Albus began to mentally berate himself for failing to give her a first name as well. Merlin knew it would be far easier to track her if he had.

Now he was faced with the rather daunting task of tracking her down in a muggle world that he hadn't been in since he dumped the little devil at St. Peter's orphanage ten years ago. At the time, he hadn't even been the slightest bit concerned about his actions nor the repercussions of them. He felt as if there was no need to worry himself over a child that he had personally placed a magical block on. Daughter of Voldemort or not, she was still a child and without her magic, she was essentially a squib.

Albus paused in his thinking to look down at his choice of clothing for the day, he knew he was more likely to stand out like a sore thumb if he was seen in his wizard's robes - no matter how fabulous they were - and he needed a wardrobe change immediately if he wanted to look like a normal member of muggle society so that he could begin performing the type of investigation that he wanted. But, for now, he believed a simple disillusionment charm should do the trick. So with the wave of his hand, Albus wandlessly disillusioned himself and began to walk around the empty lot looking for any possible signs that the fire could've been caused by magic.

After inspecting the left over debris near the front of what used to be the orphanage, he began to feel a dark aura permeating from the charred soil surrounding him, much like it had when he first brought the child here all those years ago. Though it was much stronger now than it had been back then. Whatever happened here, Albus knew this place hadn't housed any loving memories. But then again, Albus hadn't been exactly thinking of comfort when he placed the child in the strict care of the nuns running the orphanage.

He knew how muggle's thought and how paranoid they all were, especially the religious ones. After all what self respecting wizard didn't know about the witch hunts. Not to mention his own personal experience with the terrible violence muggles exhibited when they didn't understand something; for he could never forget when muggles had attacked his poor innocent sister for mistakenly showcasing her powers out in public. And, those were just idiot villagers, they no doubt had nothing on the religious zealots he'd left Riddle's daughter with. Albus could vividly recall the moment he left her there slumped against the front door step of the building.

The building had been dark and depressing, even for him as he stood on the sidewalk just outside the iron gate. Pulling out his deluminator, he cut out the street lights before moving up the walkway towards the front door. The girl was still paralyzed in his arms with the blanket he'd seen her with earlier wrapped tightly around her small body. As he reached the front door of the orphanage, he whispered a silent _finite incantatem_  over her to lift his curse from her, and she immediately began to squirm in his arms trying to fight against him. He tightened his grip on her, making sure the little hellion didn't have the chance to escape him.

Just as he went to grab his wand to obliviate her, she did something he hadn't expected and bit him. The shock of being bitten caused him to drop her to the ground, where she tried to take off away from him. For a minute he considered letting her run off into the darkness of the evening, after all, they were in the Muggle world and there would be no way for her to find her way back to the magical world on her own. But he decided against it, not wanting to take the chance that her father might've conditioned her on what to do, in this type of scenario. Still exhausted from his duel with the girl's mother, Albus knew he had no chance of catching the girl if he attempted to pursue her on foot, so he pulled his wand out and readied it.

" _Locomotor mortis_ ," he whispered angrily as he pointed his wand at her, and felt somewhat appeased when he saw her hit the ground with a loud resounding thud.

He roughly pulled her up from the ground, whispering both a wandless cleaning charm and a silencing charm over her before pointing his wand directly between her eyes once more, and unlike the last time, she stared back at him defiantly - like she knew what he was about to do, and was daring him to follow through with it. Strengthening his resolve, he pointed the wand between the girls eyes and whispered " _Obliviate_ ". He watched as her eyes rolled back into her skull and she drifted off into unconsciousness. Her memories came flowing out of her head in a thin wisp of white smoke and out into his wand.

 _There_ , he thought with satisfaction as he rewrapped the child in her blanket and moved back up the steps to the front door. "Have fun with the muggles," he whispered into her ear maliciously, even though he knew she more than likely couldn't hear him in her unconscious state. "I'm sure your father would like that." he continued as he propped her up against the door and removed a small slip of paper from the pocket of his robe. Knowing he had wasted enough time here, he quickly tried to think of a name to write down. _Delird_ , he thought, _that would definitely work_! It was an anagram of her father's last name, which he would easily be able to pick out if he ever stumbled upon her in the future. He considered giving her a first name, but could think of none as he looked down at the sleeping child. He wrote across the paper in an elegant script, _Baby Girl Delird_ and laid it on the girl's chest before taking a few steps back to look at her. Satisfied with his work, he turned on his heel and left the depressing building and reignited the street lamps -

The sound of an emergency vehicle speeding by, snapped him from his thoughts as it hurried past the forgotten rubble, and off to some place to go help some idiot muggles who probably didn't even deserve the help in the first place. Looking around at the charred debris surrounding him, he couldn't help but to release an angry growl. He should've been more vigilant in regard to this child, now instead of checking on her like how he had originally planned to, he had to find out whether or not the girl had been the cause of this fire or if it had happened naturally. Either way, he knew he wouldn't be able to find out that information here and he certainly wasn't going to find out now. He needed to get back up to Hogwarts and check in with Hagrid to make sure he'd found out where the Dursleys were hiding young mister Potter. After which, he could finally decide on what day he would like for Hagrid to go and retrieve him. Then he would be able to think of a plan of action, regarding baby girl Delird and her home for the past ten years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought that it was extremely unlikely that Professor Quirrell just so happened to be in the Leaky Cauldron the same day that Hagrid came in with Harry. I think its much more likely that he was casing the place and waiting for the day he would come in because he knew he was eleven and likely to be starting Hogwarts that year.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sunday: 1 September 1991, King's Cross Station**

Hermione had been up as soon as the Sun began to peak through her curtains and cast hazy shadows against the walls of her bedroom. Today was the day she had been waiting for, ever since she had received her acceptance letter back in July. After tucking away the last of her First Year textbooks that she had been reading in her downtime, she went and checked her Hogwarts list and trunk one final time in order to make sure that she had everything she would need for school that year. Once satisfied that she wouldn't be forgetting anything, she walked over to her chest of drawers and pulled open the top right drawer, and let her garden snake Louie slither out and into her waiting hands. She instructed the snake to slither up one of her arms and around the back of her neck to rest behind the curtain of curls on her shoulders. Snakes may not have been on the list of approved familiars, but after the information she discovered this Summer, she found it rather fitting to have a snake as her familiar.  _And besides_ , she thought with a devious smirk as she closed the drawer,  _what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them_.

Once she made sure she had everything, she checked the time and went to wake up the Grangers, starting with Mrs. Granger first and taking her time to compel them each individually to do her bidding. Once she had Mrs. Granger squared away, she moved to begin working on Mr. Granger as well, weaving her way into his mind - just as she had done his wife - and made him believe that they were taking her to the train station that morning in order to send her off to a school called Boarspot school for Gifted Children — it didn't seem too far fetched in her opinion considering her already immaculate school record. Two hours later, Hermione's huge, ridiculously heavy trunk had been loaded into the Granger's car, and they began making their way to the train station. They reached King's Cross station at a little over half past nine, where Hermione quickly bid them farewell and sent them on about their way before heading inside. She could barely contain herself as she walked through the bustling crowd of people, and towards the secret entrance to the magical platform that she read could only be accessed by running straight through it and directly into the barrier separating the magical world from the  _muggle_  one. She couldn't help but to sneer at the word,  _muggle_ , especially now that she knew what the word actually meant. . .

**_22 July 1991_ **

_After getting off the tube at the Camden Town station, Hermione quickly began to make her way over to the zoo - rushing down Parkway and hurriedly turning down Prince Albert Road - not stopping until she reached the front gate of the zoo. After paying for her ticket, she went inside and found a map of the facility, quickly scanning it with her eyes before taking off in the direction of the reptile house. As she entered the exhibit, she made her way over to where she remembered the anaconda's enclosure being located, and was pleased to see that it was still there. As she approached the glass separating her from the snake, she noted that the snake was indeed Fídi - the first snake she had ever spoken to._

_"Hello Fídi," Hermione said as she approached the glass. "Have you missed me?"_

_The snake quickly whipped it's head around at her words and began to slither closer to the glass. "Hello Morgana, long time, no see." he hissed as he drew nearer to the glass._

_She paused at the name he called her, wondering why the snake kept calling her that._

_"Well we never did get the chance to finish that conversation we started eight years ago." She responded, as she took a few more steps towards the enclosure, making sure no one else could hear her as she spoke with the snake._

_"You're more like your mother than I originally thought," the snake hissed jokingly, "She too was never one to let things go."_

_"You knew my mother?" Hermione asked, completely floored by the snake's words._

_"Of course I knew your mother, child," the snake said, sounding somewhat insulted at the fact that she didn't know this._

_"How did you know my mother?" Hermione questioned before quickly adding, "Can you tell me about her?"_

_Fídi was quiet for a moment before finally hissing, "I'll tell you what," he said contemplatively. "If you continue to visit me this Summer - lets say once every Saturday - then I'll tell you everything you want to know about your mother as you continue to visit."_

_This snake certainly was a cunning creature, she had to give him that. All her life she had wanted to know about her parents, and here she was being offered the opportunity to find out in exchange for spending a little bit of quality time with  Fídi every Saturday.  Hermione agreed with no hesitation, for there was no way that she was going to let an opportunity like this slip through her fingers. If this snake knew of her mother, then she definitely wanted to know more about her, especially since it seemed that her mother was indeed a witch, just as she had hoped when she was younger._

_"But you have to start telling me about her today, not next Saturday or the Saturday after that."_

_"Okay," the snake agreed, "What would you like to know?"_

_"Well before I even get started, I want to know if you knew my father as well, or was it just my mother?" Hermione asked curiously._

_"I know both your mother and your father, but I know your mother in a much more personal manner for I am her familiar," he hissed sadly before continuing, "Her name is Maleficent Nafasi, direct descendant of Herpo the Foul. She is an extremely powerful witch who was renowned in her country for her power and beauty. . . In fact, you actually look just like her when she was your age, with your green eyes and soft features. The only difference is that you have your father's dark hair which was how I was able to recognise you all those years ago." the snake beamed proudly._

_A smug grin made it's way to her face, the words direct descendant playing through her mind slowly. She didn't know who Herpo the Foul was, but he certainly sounded as if he might be very important in this new magical world she was getting ready to embark on in just a short month._

_"And, who exactly is Herpo the Foul?" she asked, her natural inquisitivity coming through as more information about her family was revealed._

_"Oh, only one of the most well recognized dark wizards of Ancient Greece." the snake hissed proudly. "He established the Nafasi name, was one of the first parselmouths to ever live, was the first wizard to ever successfully hatch a basilisk, and accomplished many more great magical feats."_

_Hermione smiled at this, happy to know that she was a descendant of such a wizard, though something about what the snake had said, stuck out to her._

_"Basilisk? Isn't that some kind of mythological rooster dragon hybrid?"_

_At this, the snake laughed, "A what?" he said once his laughter began to die down._

_"I've read about them before," she said somewhat offended by the snake's laughter. "The books I've read about them in, all say that they're some kind of hybrid between a rooster and a dragon, that can kill a person with nothing more than a single glance."_

_The snake sensing her ire, stopped laughing and looked at her seriously before speaking again, "Morgana, it's quite upsetting that you're so misinformed about these things, especially since knowing these things is your birthright - your birthright from **both**  sides." he said, emphasizing the last part before continuing. "Both of your parents come from a long line of parselmouths and have the ability to speak to serpents of all kinds, but more than that, they have the ability to influence them into doing their bidding. This includes the basilisk as well, as he is the king of serpents. But you were right about one thing however... they can kill someone with just one look into their victims eyes."_

_Hermione let this new information settle before she went back to asking questions.  Fídi's words about parseltongue being a part of her heritage from both sides of her family, had definitely piqued her interest. Not only did her mother have the ability to speak to snakes, but her father could as well, and now she had an even larger desire to find out more about the man that had sired her._

_"What can you tell me of my father,  Fídi?" she asked, staring at the snake intently as she spoke._

_"Your father is a wizard known by the name of Tom Riddle."  Fídi hissed before pausing briefly at the sound of Hermione's sharp inhalation of breath - the wand maker's parting words coming back to the forefront of her mind with the snake's revelation of who her father was. She tore herself away from those thoughts when  Fídi began speaking once more, "I didn't know your father all too well, since I am only your mother's familiar, but I have spent some time around him. And in the time I spent living with both he and your mother I learned very few things about him, like the fact that your father is an avid book reader and was a firm believer that knowledge is the key to power. And because of this belief, your father made himself an extraordinarily powerful dark wizard. When he was younger, he sought out my mistress' father - your grandfather - in the year 1955. Your mother had been nothing more than a mere one year old babe then. And your father hardly gave her a passing glance his first time at her family's estate. He came, asked his questions and left. So of course he had no idea then, that your mother would spend the following years growing into one of the most beautiful witches to ever inhabit the Earth. Though he soon found that out for himself, when he returned to her family home nineteen years later on another trip to see your grandfather._

_"The moment he laid eyes on her and witnessed her beauty in combination with her sharp mind and magical prowess, he wanted her at his side. So he convinced your grandfather to draw up a marriage contract for the two of them and brought her back to England with him. And while I do admit that I didn't know your father well, one thing was blatantly obvious about the man, he was completely and totally enthralled with your mother. He reveled in her darkness and basked in her ethereal beauty. . . Your mother loved him too of course, and supported all of his endeavours with unwavering loyalty. She was also well loved by those who followed him... Well, perhaps not all of his followers supported their union. There was one witch in particular that seemed to loathe your mother, and hated the affection your father showed her. But she didn't last too long, with your mother's temper and all."  Fídi laughed a little to himself before continuing. "I had such fun helping your mother kill her." he said, his words tapering off at the end as he looked to be slipping into a memory of sorts._

_Hermione's eyes went wide with the knowledge that her mother was a killer, the same as herself, and she instantly wanted to know more about it. "Who was the witch and what did you two do to her?" Hermione questioned eagerly, wanting to know more about this part of her mother. "I want you to tell me everything." she continued almost giddily._

_"Oh no one of importance, only a mad witch by the name of Bellatrix Lestrange."  Fídi told her, "She was upset with your mother for capturing your father's attentions so easily, and would go to great lengths to try and draw his attention even after your parents had married. Your mother really tried to refrain from killing the witch - at your father's behest - but the stupid bint wouldn't stop pushing her. So one day your mum spiked a goblet of wine with a dark potion - a secret family potion - it's completely tasteless and slow acting, so you would never know you'd consumed it until it was far too late to seek help. It leaves it's victims in a semi-paralyzed state where they can still see and feel, but do nothing else. And did I mention yet that your mother is quite handy with a slicing hex? She was a truly gifted witch. She had such control over the spell that she was able to wield it like a true blade. She took her time with the woman, flaying the skin from her body like the rind of a big juicy grapefruit. She started  with her feet - moving over each individual toe in a slow efficient movements and working her way up the woman's legs . Peeling back the woman's skin bit by bit, moving slowly and methodically. She took her time in order to make sure not to nick any of her arteries or nerves while she worked. The result was like watching someone peel a grape to be quite honest. And once your mother was done, she allowed me to have her as a nice juicy snack."_

_Hermione smiled with a malicious gleam in her eye, happy to hear about the kind of fun her mom liked to get into before a  somber expression flitted over her features and she finally asked the question that had been plaguing her mind for the past ten years,  " Fídi... The way you keep speaking about my parents makes me wonder if.. Well.. would you happen to know whether or not they're still alive?"_

_The snake slithered even closer to the glass before it peered over her shoulder and began to hiss once more, "I won't be able to tell you everything about this," and instantly she had been filled with rage. This was the very thing she wanted to know the most and now this snake was telling her that it wouldn't be able to tell her everything. She guessed that her displeasure with the situation was clear to see on her face because his next words placated her, "I'm only thinking about your safety when I say this Morgana. You have not yet been trained in the art of occlumency, and the last thing we would want is a well trained legilimens performing a discrete probe of your mind and finding out what it is that I've told you." the snake said beseechingly, looking at her for approval to continue speaking and at the slight nod of her head, the snake continued, "While I do admit that I don't know what exactly happened to your father, I have to tell you that I highly doubt that he's dead. The same goes for your mother, even more so, in my opinion. Simply because if she had died, I would've definitely felt it. But to be quite honest with you, I really don't know what happened with your mother after the year 1981."_

_1981, the year stuck out like a big glaring sign, the moment it slipped from the snake's mouth. She strongly doubted that it could be a coincidence that this had happened the same year she had been left at the orphanage .  "Why don't you know what happened after 1981?" Hermione asked_

_"Because on September eighteenth of 1981 was the last time I've ever seen her. On the evening of that day, I was kidnapped from your mother's estate on the outskirts of Wiltshire before being brought here and placed in this damned abominable zoo." the snake hissed angrily._

_"You were kidnapped?" Hermione asked, incensed by the prospect of some one kidnapping her mother's familiar._

_"Yes," it hissed, "Members of the vigilante group - The Order of the Phoenix - came in under the cover of night and kidnapped me, when they ambushed your mother's home. I was asleep when it happened, and before I knew what was going on, they grabbed me, tossed me into a trunk with an unbreakable charm on it, and brought me here to this horrible place."_

_"Was I still in the custody of my parents at the time you were kidnapped  Fídi?" She asked, keeping her eyes trained on the snake as she waited for an answer._

_"As far as I knew, yes. Though now that you've asked me that question in particular, I suppose my hopes were made in vain." he hissed before turning his head to look at her once more. "Morgana can you please tell me what happened? I promised your mother when you were born, that I would protect you with my life. And obviously, I failed in that task."_

_"To be quite honest with you  Fídi, I don't remember much of anything before the age of two. Which I always found to be quite strange considering the fact that I have an eidetic memory and can vividly recall every single day of my life - starting with the day I woke up in the orphanage, on September nineteenth of 1981._

_Before she could say anything more, she was cut off by an angry hiss, and she looked at the snake to find a dangerous gleam in it's eyes._

_"Did you just say you were abandoned at an **orphanage**?" It demanded to know, "I'll kill that demented old fool myself, once I'm free of this cage!" the snake hissed out viciously, completely beside himself with anger at the knowledge that she had grown up under such circumstances. Hermione watched the snake closely as it continued to rant and rage. _

_"I just know that old bastard put you there as some kind of sick twisted joke! To know my mistress' daughter had to grow up around muggle filth, is such a heinous slight against your house  that it can NOT be forgiven."_

_Muggle, Hermione thought, perfect that the snake had brought it up first, making it easier to delve into the question she had originally come here for._

_"I've heard you use that term a couple of times now, and I'm at a loss as to what it means. Could you please explain the term 'Muggle' to me?" she asked hopeful that the snake was about to calm down enough to tell her soon._

_The snake stopped it's angry tirade the moment he heard what she said . "You don't know what the term 'muggle' means?" it questioned angrily, before continuing on without waiting for an answer, "Muggles are the disgusting creatures surrounding you. They're all around you right now at this very moment," the snake said, looking around the room to let her know just who exactly he was referring to._

_"You mean these people in the Reptile House with us?" she questioned, "They're muggles?"_

_"Yes, I'm referring to the abominations that you deign to call 'people'," he hissed in contempt. "Had you been raised by your mother, you would surely know this already. In fact, your mother made it a point to NEVER have you even breathe the same air as a muggle. So to know that you grew up surrounded by them, makes my skin crawl."_

_"Are you serious?" Hermione questioned bitterly, "And to think, I grew up being shunned, ostracized, and punished for my magic, due to the fact that I was forced to grow up surrounded by these filthy, disgusting muggles."_

_"I'm deadly serious, Morgana. Your mother is a devout Pureblooded witch, she absolutely loathed muggles. She couldn't even stand to be near them for longer than a few seconds."_

_As Hermione opened her mouth to respond once more, and ask the snake yet another question, she was stopped by a loud resounding hiss. She made eye contact with the snake before hearing it whisper, "I think that's enough for the day. Come back next Saturday and I'll be more than happy to share even more details of your mother's life with you."_

_"Wait!" she said before the snake could slither away from the glass, "What is a legilimens, and how can I learn - what was it that you said earlier, again - oh yes, occlumency?"_

_The snake looked at her intently for a moment before saying, "All knowledge on this subject can be found in the book M agic of the Mind. I suggest you read it over the course of this Summer so I can begin sharing more with you about your family."_

That day marked the beginning of how the rest of her Summer holiday was spent. She took him up on his advice and read the book he had suggested, and many more. And each Saturday, she would eagerly return to the zoo, and share what she had learned with Fídi, while also anticipating what story he would tell her next about her parents. As the Summer carried on, Hermione found herself growing closer to the serpent she was spending all of her Saturdays with. She trusted him implicitly, as though she had known him her entire life. Though no matter how hard she tried, she could not get her mind off of their last meeting with one another. Fídi had made the biggest revelation of all that day, making sure he informed her of the environment she was getting ready to embark on.

_"Morgana, though I'm sure it goes without saying, I need you to promise me that you will keep everything I've told you a secret once you arrive at Hogwarts."_

_"But what if I end up in Slytherin?" she asked, "I don't want them treating me like Muggle trash, because they all assume me to be a Muggleborn."_

_"Try to get close to Draco Malfoy, once you arrive at Hogwarts."  Fídi hissed, "Build a rapport with him, and once you have the boy's trust, swear him to a vow of secrecy and have him contact his father Lucius. Are you following me?" he asked and at her nod he continued, "If the young Malfoy can orchestrate a meeting between you and his father, I want you to tell him everything I shared with you this Summer, as well as the location for this zoo. Tell him I need someone to come down here and collect me as soon as possible so that I may begin searching for your mother."_

_Hermione nodded, already storing the request in the forefront of her mind, so she would remember his request through her burgeoning excitement at starting school soon._

_"Good,"  Fídi hissed in a pleased tone, "One more thing though," he told her as he came as close as he could to the glass, "Stay below the radar of Albus Dumbledore."_

_"The Headmaster?" she scoffed, wondering how she would be able to do that if she wanted to have the highest marks out of all of her peers._

_"Yes, the headmaster is the leader of The Order of The Phoenix." he hissed seriously, "And seeing as how The Order is the group behind my abduction, I have no doubt that that old bastard had a hand in your abduction as well."_

_Hermione's eyes widened at the snake's words, hardly believing that a school's headmaster could be behind such things. But, as she looked into  Fídi's eyes, she knew the information had to be true. The man that would be responsible for her education and safety for the next several years, was the same person that endangered her by putting her in that horrendous orphanage in the first place. She checked her wristwatch and noted that it was nearing four o'clock, meaning it was time for her to get going before the Grangers returned home._

_"I have to go  Fídi," Hermione said sadly. "I need to get back before those idiot muggles get home from work."_

_"Okay,"  Fídi said forlornly before bidding her farewell._

_Hermione began to slowly leave the reptile house, wondering when she would see  Fídi again. Just as she made it to the other side of the Reptile house, she was met with the terrified screams of two boys, one fat and the other thin. She looked over momentarily and saw that they were standing in front of another enclosure, with a smaller boy sporting messy black hair and broken glasses, sprawled out on the ground near their feet. She didn't have much time to assess what was going on though, as she was distracted by the large boa constrictor that came slithering out of the now barrier free enclosure._

_She had no idea how it had happened, especially since she wasn't the one who had done it. But what she did know was that she didn't want to be somehow connected to this event, lest she alert the Headmaster of who she was, or worse - be denied access to Hogwarts as a result of this misdeed. She turned to leave the Reptile house, and as she did so she locked eyes with the boy on the floor and felt a shift in the energy surrounding him. She was certain that this boy was a wizard, just as she herself was a witch, but she quickly deduced that he was ignorant of that knowledge due to the flabbergasted look adorning his face. She was upset with how weak and pathetic he presented himself to those around him. He was a wizard! He shouldn't be sprawled out on the floor like some sort of peasant._

_He must be a muggleborn, she thought with a frown before leaving the Reptile house and making her way back home, temporarily forgetting the boy as she reflected on everything she had learned from  Fídi._

The memory of that July day exited her mind rather quickly when she heard the loud ramblings of a family heading in the same direction as her.

"- packed with Muggles, of course -" she heard a feminine voice complain.

She turned her head to look at them and frowned when she saw that the speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys and a girl, all of them sporting flaming red hair. The four boys were all pushing trunks similar to hers, and they were talking far too loud about the magical world and Hogwarts. Didn't they know that there was a statute of secrecy to uphold when surrounded by all of these filthy muggles?

"Now, what's the platform number?" asked the boys' mother.

That question struck Hermione as odd, because as far as she had researched, the King's Cross entrance to the platform, was an entrance used solely for  _Muggleborns_. She paid attention to the ages of the red-headed children and noticed that three of the four boys were far too old to be starting their first year. If this was a family  _full_  of  _Muggleborns_  - which she was seriously beginning to doubt - then they should already know where the platform was located, especially with children that appeared to be old enough to be in at least their third or fourth year. Something about this felt far too suspicious for Hermione, so she decided to observe them for a while, as they continued on ahead of her. Falling back, she locked her eyes on the matron of the family once more, determined to figure out why this family was willing to risk exposure just to reach the entrance to the platform.

It wasn't until she saw a familiar head of messy black hair, pushing his own trolley in the same direction, that she noticed their ramblings grow louder. Almost as if they were trying to alert the boy to their presence and that they too were attending Hogwarts. All of this rubbed Hermione the wrong way, and she began to push her trunk once more, falling into step beside the dark haired boy as he walked.

"Off to school?" she asked conversationally and watched as a nervous expression fell across his face.

"Um, yeah." He said, obviously nervous about discussing this with her, before turning his head to look at her. He seemed to be studying the side of her face for a second before turning his eyes back down to his trunk,  "I think I remember you from somewhere. . ." he whispered as they continued to walk.

"What school are you going to?" she asked him, deciding to ignore what he had just said while keeping her eyes trained on the family full of gingers up ahead. She watched them, as they came to a stop in front of the platform of the train, and waited. It was obvious to her that they were procrastinating - waiting for either herself or her new traveling companion to get closer. She didn't like it, not at all. Hermione wrapped one hand around the boys arm and pulled him to a halt before turning to face him. "I'm going away to a  _special_  boarding school, for  _special_  children. . ." she whispered to him conspiratorially.

At that, he whipped his head around and looked at her before leaning over and whispering into her ear, "Are you going to Hogwarts?" he asked, seeming somewhat relieved as the words fell from his lips.

"Yes of course," Hermione said sweetly, before smiling at him. "Aren't you?"

"Yes!" he said emphatically, "Do you have any idea how to get to the platform for our train?"

"Yeah," she said, watching as the red headed family finally crossed the entrance to the platform.

"Great!" the boy said excitedly. "I was starting to think that I had gone mad and simply imagined everything that happened to me this Summer."

"No. You haven't gone mad." Hermione laughed, the noise similar to the sound of hundreds of tinkling bells. "Though you should have received instructions on how to reach the platform with your Hogwarts acceptance letter."

The boy looked at her confused, for a moment before Hermione continued. "Well all that's superfluous now. I'll show you what you need to do. Do you see that archway over there for the platforms 9 and 10?" She said gesturing towards the archway up ahead. Once the boy nodded, she continued explaining, "Good, that archway is where the barrier is located that separates us from the platform, all we have to do is run through it."

"We have to  _run_  through it?" he said sounding both shocked and terrified by the prospect. "But it's a _wall_."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the boys ridiculous fear and gestured for him to watch her as she ran through the barrier, coming to an immediate halt once she reached the other side and took in the sight of the Hogwarts Express. The scarlet engine was truly a thing of beauty, she noted as it sat patiently on the iron tracks, steam billowing out like a cloud from the dome on top. Her thoughts on the train came to a screeching halt as the dark messy haired boy collided with her back.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed once he saw that he'd hit her with his trunk. "I didn't know you were right here, if I had, I would've waited."

"It's fine," Hermione gritted out as she brushed her clothing off and began moving towards the train, the dark messy haired boy following just behind her. She was irritated with the boy, but pleased with his desire to follow her. She liked the feeling of being in charge of someone, of someone  _wanting_  her approval. After loading their trunks onto the train and finding a compartment among the other first years, Hermione turned to face the boy before extending her hand out to him.

"My name is Hermione Granger." she said, waiting for the boy to take her hand and shake it.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter." he said as his sweaty hand clasped her's and began to shake it.  _Harry_   _Potter_ , she thought in utter shock,  _this couldn't possibly be true_. She had spent many of her days over the course of this past Summer, visiting Diagon Alley - or more specifically Flourish and Blotts - reading every book she possibly could about the Wizarding World, its history, and everything in between. She had never been more grateful for her desire to always want to be the best, and thus pushing herself to surpass the famed Howard Bern as the fastest reader once she had heard of the man. And with her ability to read thirty five thousand words per minute, she had mentally consumed the words of hundreds of books, even those about the Wizarding War that had happened here in this country and the boy who'd supposedly put an end to it. Hermione could hardly believe that this scared little boy sitting across from her, was the very same boy that the wizarding world heralded as a hero for defeating the greatest dark wizard in history. It simply couldn't be. In fact, she was now ready to call 'bullshit' on the entire thing. Someone  _had_  to be lying.

This  _boy_ , this  _Harry Potter_ , was just about the same height as her, if not shorter. He was sick and frail looking, and she almost wanted to snatch her hand away and wipe it on her trousers for fear of getting sick. His clothes were so baggy that she could tell that they weren't purchased for him. He seemed to drown in them, like there were for a boy much larger than him. Hermione could just tell by the hollowed out, gaunt look on his face that if she were to try and lift his shirt, that she would more than likely find a visible rib cage as well. She took in his nervous demeanor and his desire for her to accept him and the gears in her head began to rotate... The Wizarding World's  _hero_  was being abused, he had to be. There was no other excuse for this level of malnutrition on a child.

She released his hand and took in the look on his face as his eyes continued to nervously dart back and forth between her face and the top of his lap. His face conveying the message that now that he was finally escaping whoever his abusive guardians were, that he now had an intense desire to simply be liked and possibly even accepted. How did no one know about this happening to him? She thought, her mind going back to their interaction in King's Cross station moments ago, and how he had been alone. Come to think of it, didn't he say he was a  _Potter_? Why was he even in the Muggle world at all? She'd read that that family was in the Sacred Twenty Eight, so she highly doubted that there was no one else in that world who would've wanted him, especially with the way they worshiped him now. Suddenly everything that had happened on the muggle side of King's Cross began to make so much more sense to her now. She had no doubt whatsoever that those people knew exactly who he was and that they _were_ waiting for him... though they couldn't possibly have known that he would have trouble finding the platform, unless -

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as the Headmaster's name slid through her mind. This child had to be considered a high priority student, considering who he was, so she knew that the manipulative old bastard that she had been warned about could've possibly been behind all this. She fought the smirk that threatened to break out on her face as she thought about how he could've been responsible for this shell of a boy that stood before her. And if that old man  _was_  behind this entire situation, she could only imagine the amount of hair he's going to yank from his head once he figured out just who she was and that she had been the one to befriend their precious little hero instead of the orchestrated ploy she had witnessed back in the station.

"Nice to meet you Harry," she said finally giving him one of her well practiced smiles.

Whether the boy was aware or not, something was definitely going on with him and his arrival at Hogwarts, and she was determined to figure it out.

After all, Hermione did always like a good puzzle.

* * *

Maleficent - causing harm or destruction, especially by supernatural means.

For anyone interested in knowing why I chose this name for Hermione's mother.


	5. Chapter 5

After their introductions the two sat there together in a comfortable silence, Hermione eyeing Harry inconspicuously as he sat across from her looking out the window. She half listened to the sounds aboard the train as she watched him - all the while meticulously plotting her next move. The sounds of the other children boarding the train, provided a blessed distraction for the boy as she wondered how she could manipulate this situation to her favour. She looked out the corner of her eye at the boy while he stared out the window wistfully. Who would've thought that Harry Potter, the boy wizard extraordinaire, would be seated just across from her and looking so open  _and_  trusting. Just waiting for her to use him.  _What a horrible mistake_ , she thought as she watched him, the fool boy would more than likely come to regret this decision to trust her in his future. But that wasn't her problem, she was only concerned with her chances of being able to use him to further her own agenda, and she would be damned if she let this opportunity pass her by.

"Are you excited about school?" she asked him, deciding to break the silence in order to begin the process of ingratiating herself to him.

"Yes," he breathed dreamily, before his voice became thick with sadness. "I've always known I was different, you know? And I'm pretty sure everyone else around me could probably tell as well." he sighed, looking up at her and back to the window again before continuing, "Back home, I'm not the most well liked child. I-It just feels good to know that I'm finally going to a school with people that are just like me."

For the first time since she began speaking to him, she felt as if she could actually relate to him. Hermione knew exactly what it was like to be disliked, but unlike the boy across from her she didn't have much of a desire for companionship. She felt entirely self sufficient on her own, having spent so much time on her own already, but she didn't have to let him know that.

"Me too," she said with a well practiced cheerful voice. "I've always felt the same way," she continued. "Children can often be so cruel at times, out there," she said, gesturing her head towards the station. "They hate what they don't understand."

"Tell me about it," he said, finally taking his eyes off the window to look at her. His expression one of understanding.

"What house do you think you will be in?" she asked to keep the conversation going.

"Well, I don't know much about the houses to be honest, but the man that took me to Diagon Alley to go get my school supplies told me all about Gryffindor. Apparently its the Headmaster's house as well as the house my parents were sorted to as well."

 _Just my luck that the old bastard sent some_ _Gryffindor_ _fanatic to go indoctrinate the boy into wizarding culture_ , she thought in annoyance,  _knowing she would have to tread lightly._

"So.." Hermione began cautiously. "I take it Gryffindor is the house you want to be sorted into."

"Well, um." he said nervously, "I guess."

"What about the other houses?" she asked, "Have you tried considering any of them? I understand that Gryffindor might be appealing to you for sentimental reasons, but what about  _you_? Have you ever considered what house would be best for  _you_?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at her as if he had never considered that before.

"I mean, do you really want to be placed into a house where everyone is going to constantly comparing you to your parents, instead of letting you be your own person?" she asked him, planting a subtle seed of doubt into his mind for her to start to build up on. "Like what if you push to get into Gryffindor, and end up regretting it because the entirety of your school career is spent trying to live up to the legacy of your parents."

 _Bingo!_  she thought as she watched the doubt begin to creep up into his mind.  _Time to push it a bit more._

"Just think about it," Hermione told him, "Would it really be so bad if you ended up being in another house other than Gryffindor? Like Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff?" she suggested, waiting a moment before she said the last house in order to gauge his receptiveness, "Or maybe even Slytherin."

"I don't know about that," he said in a low voice, "I haven't heard too many good things about that house."

"Slytherin?" she asked, and he nodded his head in response. "What's not good about being cunning or ambitious?" she continued.

"I suppose you're right about that." he said with a sigh, "But it still doesn't negate all of the negative things that I've heard about that house."

"Like what?" she asked him, wondering what he could've been told to make him feel such a way.

"Well for starters, that house does have a reputation for producing dark witches and wizards. I heard that there wasn't a single witch or wizard that went bad who wasn't in Slytherin, and that You-Know-Who was a Slytherin, himself."

 _Oh_ , she thought, wishing she could roll her eyes.  _She definitely had her work cut out for her now_.

"And what are your thoughts on the other houses?" she asked, curious to know if whomever poisoned him against Slytherin bothered to put forth an effort to do so with the other houses as well.

"Well, like I said earlier, I don't really know much about the other houses." he told her with a slight shrug.

"So let me get this straight," Hermione said, looking at him with a serious expression on her face. "What you're telling me, is that you were only told about two out of four of the houses, and it wasn't in an unbiased or objective manner, but in a rather partisan fashion that ultimately pushed you into thinking negatively about a group of children you haven't even met yet?"

His face flushed in response and Hermione knew that she was getting to him, so she decided to push it a bit further, "I find it rather alarming that an adult would try and turn you against other children. I mean, doesn't he know what it was like for people like us out there?" she asked, playing up on the fact that they had both come here from the muggle world. "We were always the first to be singled out for our differences - forcing us to become social pariahs - and now you have someone trying to convince you to perpetuate the exact behavior that you and I were forced to endure. What if I happened to be sorted into Slytherin, Harry? Would that make me suddenly evil?" she finished with a raised eye brow.

"What?" he stammered seeming to be taken by surprise with her question. "No! Of course not!"

"I know Harry, but that's the attitude you should have about everyone going to, or coming from that house." she said softly. "It's not really fair of you to judge an entire house of children, based off of the actions of individual persons that hailed from that house." he fell quiet after that, and she decided to stop pushing it and let him think about what she had told him.

Before long, one of the red-haired boys Hermione had noticed earlier in the train station poked his head into their compartment, "Um, hi," he said seemingly nervous before continuing, "Is anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing directly to the seat next to Harry. "You see, everywhere else is full. And I need a place to sit."

 _Really?_  she thought skeptically, _Everywhere else was full?_  She recalled the way he and his family had tried to catch the boy's attention earlier. To her, it seemed that they already knew who he was and were trying their damnedest to establish some kind of relationship with the boy. She didn't know why, but she didn't like the red head trying to encroach on her territory. They were getting ready to embark on what she considered to be the most important journey of her life, and she fully intended to use this boy's celebrity to her advantage, even if he was famous for something she considered to be highly improbable. She could easily see the boy being the tool she would use in order to begin forming a relationship with the big players of their year - the Malfoys immediately coming to her mind as she remembered what Fídi had told her, and she wasn't going to let this red headed tosser get in her way.

"Everywhere else is full?" Hermione asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of her tone as she voiced her thoughts. The ginger-haired boy began to blush furiously, his cheeks turning the same flaming red as his hair.

"W-well, I- um-" he started stammering and Hermione couldn't help the snort that escaped her throat as she mentally dismissed the red-head and turned to the boy across from her. Hermione didn't want to mistakenly do something and unintentionally turn the boy away from her, so she lifted a brow to him in silent question, hoping that he understood what she meant. A startled look passed over his face and she could tell that he wasn't the type of boy that liked to be put on the spot. He paused for a second and then began to nod slowly, seeming to understand that she was asking whether or not he wanted the boy to join them. To her, he appeared to genuinely have no issue with the other boy sitting with them, and she could see how ready to be accepted he was. This boy, the wizarding world's  _hero_ , was so starved for attention and acceptance, that he was willing to accept it from anyone that showed it to him, even in the slightest. That was dangerous, she wondered for a moment what had happened to him in order to make him this way before turning back to the redhead, mask firmly in place as she spoke.

"Fine. Come in, sit down and please, if you can manage, try not to make too much noise." She said politely. The boy nodded and quickly stepped inside, immediately settling down in the empty seat next to Harry. She couldn't help the smirk that crossed her face when Harry recoiled from the closeness and scooted away from the red-haired boy. She didn't know what made him so timid and weak, but it seemed to be working against the other boy's agenda.

The red-haired boy didn't seem to notice, she noted as the boy scooted closer to Harry once more.

The red-haired boy looked at Harry with a gleam in his eye, apparently sharing her earlier thoughts of acquiring the boy for her own. She wondered silently if she should do something to put an end to their interaction, but as she took a closer look at the red head and saw just how nervous he was, she decided to see how he handled himself in this situation, before acting. Knowing that she could very well be in for a good laugh at least, if the boy was as dense as he appeared.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he spoke, both looking and sounding annoyingly cheerful, "what's your name?" he asked, even though she could tell from the glint in his eye that he already knew just exactly who it was that he was sitting next to.

"Erm, I'm Harry." he said, "Harry Potter," he introduced himself, and she sat back, already anticipating and bracing herself for the performance she could sense brewing in the ginger since the moment he opened the door to the compartment. Though she still felt woefully unprepared for what she experienced once he flew into full on gush mode, fawning all over him like some muggle fangirl meeting their celebrity crush. How pathetic, she thought, cringing as he made a fool of himself.

"Bloody hell! You're Harry Potter!" he gasped excitedly, "Have you really got – well. . . you know. . ." he exclaimed, gesturing to Harry's forehead, and Hermione could easily see the inner debate the dark haired boy was having in regard to whether or not he wanted to show him his scar.

"We were just discussing what houses we believe we'll be sorted into," Hermione interjected in an attempt to curtail the red head's question and saw a mild relief fall over Harry's face as she did so. Ron shot her an angry glare before straightening up and saying, "What's there to discuss, the only house worth going to is Gryffindor. Everyone knows that. But I suppose Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are still okay, if you're not good enough to get into Gryffindor."

"What about Slytherin?" she asked, sensing that the boy was more or likely prejudiced to the house as well.

"Why would anyone want to be in Slytherin?" he asked with a sneer on his face, "That house is where all the dark wizards and witches go." she turned her head towards Harry and lifted her eyebrow at him and his cheeks began to pink slightly.

"The qualities of the house are ambition and cunning, what's dark about that?" she asked, keeping her voice light as she spoke.

"It's the house You-Know-Who came from, it has to be dark." he said as if that made it a fact, before turning back to Harry and gesturing towards his forehead with his hand. "Speaking of You-Know-Who, do you really have the. . well. . . you know?"

She narrowed her eyes at the red head, and his dismissal of her, as Harry reluctantly pushed his dark fringe out of the way and let the boy see his scar.

"Wow!" The red-haired boy breathed, "so that's where You-Know-Who- hit you with the —"

"Yes," Harry said, interrupting the eager boy, "but I honestly can't remember it." He quickly added, obviously trying to put an end to the uncomfortable topic. Ron, fortunately enough for her, seemed to be missing that message completely.

"You really don't remember anything at all?" He questioned, seeming almost put out by that knowledge. No longer finding amusement in the dense boy's line of questioning, she decided to end it right here before the rest of the train ride became too awkward.

"I don't know if you're blind or simply just too dense, but he obviously doesn't want to talk about it," Hermione said icily, her sharp voice cutting in as the boy began to open his mouth once more. She could see Harry visibly relax at her words, happy that someone stopped the other boy's line of questioning. But where Harry felt relieved, Ronald was upset with her input into the conversation, and began to glare at her in response.

"And who are  _you_  exactly?" Ron asked rudely, eyes cut into slits as he spoke.

"I'm Hermione Granger. Though you on the other hand, can call me Granger." Hermione answered, her tone one of distaste.

"Granger?" he questioned, "That means you're a muggleborn, right?" He said scrunching up his face as he spoke.

Hermione gave Ron a murderous look. "You know what they say about assumptions, right Weasley?" she asked, voice just about frozen with the ice in her tone. By then Ron's cheeks were so red that Hermione was certain that his plan was starting to crumble right before his eyes.

"Hey," he said suddenly, turning to face Harry once more, "Want to come with me and sit somewhere away from  _her_?" Ron asked, turning his head slightly to scowl at her as he spoke. Harry eyed the other boy as if he had gone mad.

"You can't possibly be serious." he told the boy with a hard expression on his face.

"I'm quite serious," Ron told him, nodding his head as he spoke, before lowering his voice slightly and leaning over to whisper, "she's absolutely horrid, isn't she?"

Hermione looked on with satisfaction as she watched the dark haired boy stand up, and point to the compartment door. "The only horrid person in this compartment is you, and I suggest you leave now or I'll move you myself." He said voice cold as ice. The red headed boy began sputtering, opening and closing his mouth several times like a fish, his disbelief clearly written across his features.

"What?" The boy managed to squawk out.

"I know you're thick and all, but my god. He's standing just beside you and he obviously did not stutter." Hermione said unable to keep the amusement out of her voice, as she lounged back in her seat with a smirk on her face. Ron glared, face still red, and stood to his feet looking like he wanted to curse her, but every time he opened his mouth nothing came out.

"Nothing to say?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow before smiling gleefully, "Good." she declared as she made a sweeping gesture with her hand that caused the compartment door to open wide. She could see Harry out of the corner of her eye gaping at her, while the red-haired boy began sputtering again.

"You've already made it abundantly clear that you're hard of hearing, but I had no idea you had a hard time following simple instructions as well," she said with an exasperated sigh as she began to stand. "Well I guess we all know now, who out of the three of us will be having the roughest go of our time in school."

"Oh shut up." the boy spat as he glared at Hermione, hatred written all over his features.

"Oh look, it  _can_  speak" she said gleefully as she looked down her nose at the red head. "Let's see if it  _can_  listen as well. He said,  _get_   _out_."

When the boy still refused to move, Hermione raised her hand in his direction in a move she'd performed well over a hundred times, and watched with a vicious grin as the boy was pushed out of the compartment and into the outer corridor. Both Harry and the red head looked utterly flabbergasted, Harry even more so when she moved her hand once more in a sweeping gesture and the compartment door slammed closed in the other boy's face.

"That. Was. Amazing." Harry breathed in astonishment. "How did you do that?"

"I've been able to do things like that for most of my life," she told the messy haired boy after a short pause. "Are  _you_  able to perform any magic?" she asked him, curious about his magical ability, seeing as how he had  _supposedly_  defeated the world's most powerful dark wizard as an infant.

"Erm, nothing that I can control, quite like that." Harry admitted, gesturing towards her and the compartment door. "Though there was this one time that I turned a teacher's hair blue. And another time I grew all of my hair back overnight when my aunt decided to give me this terribly dreadful haircut with a pair of her kitchen scissors." he said before quickly adding, "Oh, and there was this one time that I ended up on the roof when some bullies were chasing me."

"That's impressive," Hermione said with a pleased smile on her face, genuinely happy that while the boy had experienced small bouts of  _accidental_  magic, he had not managed to attain the same level of control over his magic as she had already attained over her own. "Did you know that transporting yourself like that, is called apparition." she said, maintaining her smile. "You're lucky you didn't hurt yourself, because Hogwarts students don't actually get to learn how to do it until they're of age, which is seventeen in the wizarding world."

"Well that's good for me," Harry laughed nervously, "Because like I said earlier, I really don't know how to control it."

"It's still impressive nonetheless," Hermione said praisingly, hoping to appease any ego he might have. "I wonder if there's anything else that you've done that you're just too modest to boast about." she said, gently pressing for more information. He looked nervous for a moment before speaking again, though this time his voice was just a brush above a whisper.

"There was this one time. . . at the zoo. . . I kind of accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin and his friend," Hermione laughed then, remembering the event and the panic it had caused, but she was curious about the story behind the hilarious event.

"And pray tell dear Harry, how exactly did that happen?" she asked.

"Well, you're going to think I'm mad, but. . . I was talking to the snake and then the next thing I knew Dudley - my cousin - shoved me to the side and then voila, the glass just vanished." Oh now he  _definitely_  had Hermione's attention with that statement. He had  _spoken_  with the snake that day at the zoo? What was the likelihood of her meeting a fellow parselmouth?

"What did the snake say to you?" Hermione pressed, wanting to know more while battling with herself over telling him her own secret.

"Well he didn't say much, but he did tell me 'thanks amigo' when he slid past me." He said thoughtfully before looking at her.

"So you're a parselmouth then," Hermione said, deciding it was best for her to hold her own secret close to the chest for the time being.

"A. . . a what?"

"A parselmouth," she repeated, somewhat annoyed, "it's a person that can talk to snakes. The language itself is called parseltongue." Hermione informed him, hoping he wouldn't want her to repeat herself again.

"Is that a common thing for wizards?" He asked, uncomfortably.

"No," she told him seriously, having read many books on the subject this summer, in Diagon Alley. She didn't want to mistakenly talk to her snake in front of someone and become public enemy number one. "It's actually incredibly rare and there's a hell of a lot of prejudice surrounding it." Hermione replied, not bothering to sugar-coat her words. "But don't worry Harry, your secret is safe with me," He nodded at her words and then gave her a smile, seemingly appreciative of how frank she was when discussing this.

The rest of the train ride passed in a relatively comfortable silence. Both Harry and Hermione declining to purchase anything from the sweets trolley, and opting instead to spend most of their time reading with Harry asking her occasional questions every now and again when he didn't understand something. Hermione was more than happy to show off her intelligence to the boy, especially if he was willing to look to her as a teacher of sorts.

Hermione got up and quickly left for the bathroom in order to change into her robes and was glad to see that Harry had done the same while she was gone. She was proud of her uniform having splurged on them when she had been in Madam Malkins. So she couldn't help but be please when she noticed him looking and gave a small smirk. "You like?" she asked and watched in mild amusement as Harry's lips twitched, before she added in with a smirk, "I think they will look much better once they're adorned in Slytherin green, though. Don't you?"

Harry looked at the floor for a moment before mumbling out, "I suppose." Hermione took this as a sign that he was still uncomfortable discussing the houses, so instead of talking about them any more, she pulled her wand out from her sleeve and pointed it at Harry's face. A nervous expression passed over his features, his eyes crossing slightly as he stared down the tip of her wand. Suppressing a chuckle at his fearful expression she quietly mummered, "reparo." and watched as his expression shifted from one of fear to one of surprise, as the piece of tape holding together his glasses vanished, and his glasses began to completely mend themselves back together.

"There," she said approvingly, sliding her wand back up her sleeve, "Now that's better." Harry smiled shyly in response, but remained silent. Hermione was slightly afraid that she had also scared him away like the dense Weasel boy, so she was happy when he looked as if he was finally going to speak, only to be interrupted when the compartment door slid open and three boys entered. One short, pale, and extremely fair in colouring, while the other two were the complete opposite, both large and lumbering with dark hair.

"Bloody hell," Hermione said in mild annoyance at the interruption. She looked up in annoyance at the compartment door and knew instantly who it was that interrupted them. Standing in the doorway was boy about the same as her if not an inch or two taller, with white blond hair that had been gelled back with only god knows what. Behind him stood two abnormally large boys, both menacing looking and sporting dark brown hair. The smaller boy was a Malfoy, of that she was certain. His pale blond hair and cool gray eyes were tale-tell signs of what house he hailed from. She had no idea what houses the other two belonged to but she knew just by looking at them that they only served as body guards for the smaller boy.

"So it's true then?" the pale boy asked, in an obvious reference to Harry. "Everyone on the train is going about saying that Harry Potter is in this compartment." he said, his eyes resting steadily on the fidgety boy beside her. "It  _has_  to be you, right?"

Hermione mentally cursed the blasted Weasley boy before giving the blond a strained sort of smile, she was hardly ready for this interaction and she could string the insolent ginger up by his thumbs for running his big fat mouth before she was ready. Having no other option, she reached her hand out slightly and pushed Harry forward towards the Malfoy heir.

"Um, yeah," Harry said shyly making Hermione want to smack him. The pale boy stepped forward and into the compartment, the other two boys following closely behind him as he walked inside.

"Well this here is Crabbe, and this one is Goyle," the pale boy said unconcernedly waving his hand back and forth between the two, before moving in front of Harry to introduce himself. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Harry made an amused sound, which prompted Draco Malfoy to pull a face at him. "Think my name's funny, do you?" he asked his tone turning icy, and Hermione could sense a bridge on the cusp of being burned.

"No," Hermione said, quickly cutting in before the idiot Potter boy could ruin this moment any more, "I'm certain Harry was just surprised that your family decided to adhere to your mother's family tradition of naming children after constellations, as opposed to giving you a multi-generational Malfoy name like Abraxas or Armand. Your name is still quite regal though, and very fitting for the heir of two great houses." she said, happy that she had decided to read wizarding genealogy books on one of her many trips to Flourish and Blotts over the Summer. The boy looked mollified by her pandering of his ego and she was pleased to have diffused the tense situation.

"And who are you?" Draco asked her after a brief pause and she gave him a sweet smile. She steadied herself for what she knew was about to come next, and she told him the variation of the truth that she and Fídi had decided upon before she left for school.

"Well, my legal name is Hermione Granger." She said, introducing herself and she watched as Draco's lip curled in distaste.

"You're a  _mudblood_." He said disgustedly but Hermione had already anticipated it, so she slowly shook her head and began to talk once more.

" _Not_  exactly," she said vaguely, before continuing with a wink, "But ask me that again  _after_  we've been sorted."

He looked at her curiously for a minute, almost as if he were intrigued by her response. The look in his eyes shifted a bit as he went from curious to assessing all in a matter of seconds. "Well, can you do any magic?" he asked, and she knew this was some sort of strange test. He wanted to see how magically powerful she was. Hermione wouldn't lie, she hated that she was being put on the spot like this. She hated feeling as if she needed to prove her magical power to someone, just to convince them that she belonged. But she was going to show this pointy, handsome little boy just exactly it was that he was speaking to.

"Oh, she's amazing," Harry cut in, in defense of her causing, the blond boy's head to snap in his direction, "she's done loads of magic since we've been together. You should've seen it, just seconds before you came in, she fixed my glasses!" Draco turned back to her then, an eyebrow lifting in interest as he gave Hermione one last evaluating look. She turned to place a hand on Harry's shoulder, silently telling him that while she appreciated his help, she could defend herself. Harry, seeming to understand this, nodded his head in response and Hermione moved her hand in a sweeping motion - similar to the one she made earlier - and watched when the three boys jumped in surprise from the loud noise the door made while slamming closed behind them. They looked well and truly shocked and Hermione knew she could easily stop here, but she felt the need to try and push it a step further. Placing her hand on the yew wand in her pocket, she focused all her energy in this - not knowing how effective this would be since she had never done this before.

" _Expelliarmus_." she said softly, her voice coming out in a soft hiss-like caress. She could feel her magical energy surging up her arm out through the wand that she was caressing in the pocket of her robes. Before anyone could register what was happening, the wand of the large boy standing to the right behind the blond boy, flew out from the front pocket of his trousers and over into her free hand. Draco looked as surprised as she felt in that moment, and she couldn't believe that it had actually worked, but was pleased with the look of admiration on his face as she passed the wand back to his companion. He stared at her intently then, a small calculating smirk on his lips as he did so.

"With magic like that, there's no doubt you're more than likely a halfblood. Because there's no way you would've been able to do that if you were a mudblood." He said with a nod, before turning his attention back to Harry. "I heard you had a run-in with Weasley, earlier." Draco said, looking mildly amused.

"I did." Harry nodded uncomfortably, grasping the back of his neck in his hand.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You wouldn't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." he said before holding his hand out to the messy haired boy, "but no worries there Potter, I'm sure I can help you out there." Hermione could see Harry freeze for a moment in indecision before she elbowed him in the side. Harry slowly extended his hand and began to shake the blond's hand tentatively.

"Thanks for the warning." Harry said awkwardly, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." he continued trying to be as diplomatic as possible, and Hermione was grateful for it. And if his smirk was anything to go by, she could tell that Draco was pleased with this exchange as well.

"Good." He said before turning back to the door and opening it up, "See you when we get to the Great Hall, Potter. Granger." He nodded at both of them before leaving, his two flunkies trailing after him. Hermione smiled to herself as the door slid shut once more, satisfied with her first experience playing the  _game_ , with the upper crust of the wizarding world. With Draco's apparent interest in befriending the wizarding world's supposed hero, she knew it wouldn't be long before she was able to coax him into trusting her enough to finally orchestrate that meeting with his father, Lucius Malfoy.

Suddenly a voice pierced the silence of the train, amplified through each of the compartments as if someone was speaking right beside them: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Hermione could feel herself beginning to vibrate with excitement, as the train grew closer to the station. She looked over at Harry and saw that he was completely pale and he looked as if he was going to be ill. She sincerely hoped not, as she began to shake her head - mentally preparing herself for what was ahead. Harry met her eyes and she offered him a smile before standing and gesturing towards the door.

"Everything will be okay Harry, come on." she said with a grin, "Don't you want to see the castle?"

Harry smiled at her then, and she knew he was beginning to trust her. Good. It would be easier to manipulate him later.

"Yeah, Hermione." he said matching her grin. "I bet it's going to be  _amazing_."

She let her mask slip for a moment, allowing him to see just how excited she was as well, knowing that this moment would more than likely endear her even more to him. They stepped out into the corridor with the rest of the bustling children, as the train slowed down to a halt. Students pushed each other as they made their way toward the door and out onto the tiny, dark platform. Hermione could feel Harry hovering behind her and she smiled, knowing that she just about had the boy ensnared in her web. From a distance, she could see a lamp bobbing back and forth over the heads of the other students, and a loud voice with a thick accent rang out over their heads: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" The man yelled out and as he got closer Hermione saw that he was an absolute giant of a man. "All right there, Harry?" he said spotting the boy ducked away behind her.

The man's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads as he looked at Harry, like the boy was his very own flesh and blood. It was a look far beyond hero worship, the man looked as if he had real emotions invested in the boy. She lifted an eyebrow in interest.  _Interesting_ , she thought to herself, as they made their way over to the man. Hermione chanced a look over her shoulder at Harry and saw his face lighting up as they approached the man.

 _Perhaps there were a few more questions she needed to ask the dark haired boy_ , she thought as they silently began making their way towards the Black Lake.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Sorry everyone!! There will not be a chapter update this upcoming Wednesday. Next week I will be swamped with work and school & I have a really big project at school that’s due soon and it needs my undivided attention, so I decided to share chapter 6 early. Chapter 7 will be posted 4/3/19.

* * *

 

"No more'n four to a boat!" she heard the large man yell as they neared the edge of the lake. Once they got to the edge, Hermione could see an entire fleet of small boats waiting off to the side.

Swiftly, Hermione decided on a boat and climbed inside, followed quickly by Harry and to her surprise they were joined by Draco and another dark haired boy that he hadn't brought with him to their compartment earlier. The boy had hair as dark as Harry's, but his was neatly combed and parted on one side, and his eyes were a dazzling blue colour.

"Everyone in?" shouted the enormous man, who happened to take up an entire boat all to himself. Hermione looked around the surface of the lake where all of the boats were located, and saw that all of the other children were situated in each of the boats and they were ready to get moving.

"Right then," he said before yelling, "- FORWARD!"

All of the boats began to move simultaneously, and Hermione wondered how he had been able to enchant them this way, especially since she didn't see him draw his wand. She turned to look at Harry, who looked thoroughly amazed, like he had never actually experienced magic before, even though the pathetic boy had literally just seen her perform multiple feats of magic a few moments ago, and that's not even mentioning the magic he already had on his own. Smothering her burgeoning irritation with the boy, she nudged him slightly with her elbow and waited for him to look at her. After a few seconds he turned to her with the biggest smile she had ever seen, and she returned his grin before quietly whispering to him.

"Hey, how do you know the man that's bringing us to Hogwarts?"

Harry's face lit up even more at the mention of the giant man, and Hermione knew she would have her work cut out for her.

"Who? Hagrid?" Harry asked, "Well, he's the one that saved me from my aunt and uncle, and showed me the wizarding world." he said, with a slight tremor to his tone.

"Oh?" she said, "So he's the teacher that shared his biased opinion of Slytherin with you then?" she asked him and watched as he tore his eyes away from her, and drew in a shaky breath before looking back up to meet her face once more.

"Well he's not a teacher exactly, but he does work for the school." he told her honestly, "When he came to get me, he told me that he was the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." Harry told her as his cheeks began to flare up, and she was certain that her face portrayed the confusion she was feeling. Why in the world, would the school send the bloody _grounds keeper_ of all people to go collect their supposed saviour? It just didn't make sense. Especially when real actual _professors_ were sent out to the homes of all the other incoming children from the muggle world.

"Wait, so they didn't send a _professor_ to your home?" questioned Hermione, letting some of her skepticism bleed into her tone. "My letter told me to expect a professor at my home the following day, and that the professor would tell me everything I needed to know about heading into the wizarding world."

"Oi, Potter, what are you two talking about over there?" she heard the voice of the young Malfoy boy cut in.

Harry nervously looked up in Malfoy's direction for a moment, before hurriedly turning his eyes back down to the floor of the boat. As he did so, he completely missed the way Hermione rolled her eyes at his shyness. It was really bothering her to see how the boy reacted to people speaking with him. She took in the look on the blond boy's face and saw this as a chance to begin luring him a bit more into her web.

"We're discussing Hagrid," Hermione said, nodding her head in the direction of the boat the giant man occupied. When she looked back at the Malfoy heir, she could see the content expression on his face, and could see that he was predictably pleased with her for choosing to share their topic of discussion with him. So she decided to take another chance and reveal just a bit more to him, "Apparently, he was the man that showed Harry the wizarding world."

The look Draco gave her in response confirmed exactly what her thoughts had been. He had one eyebrow lifted and his face screwed up into a mask of confusion. And she knew in that instant that it couldn't possibly be Hogwarts policy to let the grounds keeper go off indoctrinating incoming students into wizarding culture, so she was wondering why it had been done with Harry in particular.

"No offense Potter, but my father is on the board of governors for the school," Draco said before continuing, "So I know its against school policy, for the headmaster to send anyone other than a licensed educator to the homes of students coming in from the muggle world." his eyes cut to her for a second before moving back to Harry, and Hermione felt herself bristle slightly at his insinuation about her.

"There's nothing wrong with Hagrid," Harry immediately defended, "He was the first person to ever tell me about my parents and what happened to them."

Hermione placed her hand on Harry's knee and looked at him intently, "No one is saying that there is anything wrong with Hagrid, Harry." she said placatingly, "But he was supposed to do a bit more than just tell you about your parents. He was supposed to tell you about Diagon Alley and how to get there, as well as tell you about the school and _all_ of the Hogwarts houses. That's what were talking about Harry."

"But he did tell me about Hogwarts and it's houses," Harry continued in his defense of the giant man, and Hermione could see that they were quickly reaching an impasse with the conversation.

"Harry, you told me yourself that he only told you about Gryffindor and Slytherin." she told him, reminding him of their conversation back on the train. "There are four houses at Hogwarts Harry, not two."

"I heard from my father that the groundskeeper was little more than a Dumbledore worshiper." Draco cut in, "If he told you about the school, or it's houses, I doubt he told you about them in an unbiased manner. He hates Slytherins almost as much as our lovely headmaster. And by the sounds of things, he was more than likely sent to you so he could try and make you more amenable to being sorted into Gryffindor house, by poisoning you against Slytherin."

Harry's cheeks began to flush once Draco finished speaking, and Hermione knew that the large man had done exactly that.

"Well he might have told me that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard to ever live, but that doesn't mean that he's all those things that you're saying?"

The other dark haired boy spoke up then, and Hermione was surprised by how soft his voice was.

"Wait, so you're telling me that even with Draco telling you, right now to your face, that it's against school protocol to send the bleeding _groundskeeper_ to come and collect you and take you to Diagon Alley, that it wasn't done with an agenda in mind? Come on Potter, I know you're smarter than that."

Harry sat there in silence, and she could tell he was thinking back to the time he had spent with the man. "B-but, my parents.." he tried again, and the other dark haired boy continued.

"No offense to you or anything Potter, but I'm willing to bet that he used your parents to further Dumbledore's Gryffindor propaganda. Perhaps he told you a story or two about how they were both sorted into Gryffindor and how Dumbledore himself used to be a Gryffindor as well. Its a basic manipulation tactic. Play up on someone's emotions and make them feel as if they're making a certain decision on their own, as opposed to making that decision at your behest. I mean, if someone wanted me to feel inclined to join a particular house over another, the perfect way to do it would be to send someone to sell me a sob story about my mother and her being a part of that house." he said before continuing, "So the real question is, did he try to sell you on Gryffindor, by telling you that your parents had been sorted there?" the dark haired boy asked knowingly. "Or if you don't feel comfortable sharing that with us, just tell us whether or not he told you anything positive about Slytherin? I'm willing to bet all the galleons in my family's Gringotts vault that he did not. More than likely he told you that we're a house full of darkness."

Harry looked at her then with a panicked expression on his face, and she figured that he wanted her to stop this line of questioning for him, much like she had with the red headed boy earlier. Hermione had no intention to put an end to their line of questions. He needed to see that all of this was a ploy to manipulate him into wanting to join Gryffindor house over all the others. So instead of doing what she knew that he wanted her to do, she gave him another small smile, and reached down to pat his trembling hand as he grasped at his knee.

"Its okay Harry, nobody is trying to hurt you." she said in an assuring tone, "but don't you find it somewhat strange that the grounds keeper, was sent to assist you over a licensed educator like everyone else residing in the muggle side of the world?"

"It is a bit strange now that you guys have begun pointing things out," Harry confessed, "Especially the things you said about Slytherin. It was almost exactly the same as what Hagrid said, and none of you were around to hear our conversation then."

"Heads down!" yelled the giant man as they came across a cliff face with curtains of ivy dangling in front of the entrance, effectively hiding it from prying eyes. Hermione and the other occupants of the boat, lowered their heads just as their boat glided through the curtain, taking them through a dark tunnel, which led them to an area she believed was located directly beneath the castle. Their boats continued moving through the water until they reached some form of an underground harbor with a rocky shore. Once their boats hit the rocky shore, each of them clambered out of their individual boats and waited for their next set of instructions.

"Oi! You, over there!" she heard the large man call out, and lifted her head to see who he was talking to. She saw that he was talking to a a round-faced boy with dark hair. "Is this your toad?" He asked as he lifted a toad from one of the boats he was checking.

"Trevor!" the boy cried out blissfully, running to the man with his hands outstretched before him. After the large man returned the toad to it's owner, the man instructed them to form two side by side queues and follow him up a dark passageway. Harry immediately stepped in beside her, with Draco Malfoy stepping in behind him and the other dark haired boy that came across the lake with them stepped in line behind her. After the rest of the students found their place in line they began following the enormous man through the dark passageway - the only light being the one emanating from Hagrid's lamp. The passageway smelled damp and moldy, and Hermione found herself covering her nose with the sleeve of her robes, until at last they came across a large flight of stone stairs which led them all to an enormous Oak door.

Hagrid turned around and gave the students a head count, before turning back to the door and knocking three times on the wooden surface with his giant meaty looking fist.

Seconds passed before the door swung open, and they were met with a tall, brunette witch wearing emerald-green robes. She had a very stern face that immediately reminded her of Sister Eunice, and Hermione found herself not trusting this woman.

"Got yer firs' years right here, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid cheerfully as he stepped aside and allowed her to see the assembled group of children just behind him.

"Very good," she said with a small smile, "Thank you, Hagrid." she continued, dismissing the giant man with a wave of her hand before turning her head to look over the crowd of students, "I'll take the children the rest of the way from here."

She pulled the door wide open, and allowed the students to come inside. The entrance hall was enormous Hermione noted as she stepped through the large oak door, it made her feel quite small in comparison. Her snake Louie pressed himself to her ear and began hissing to her, " _Is this the place you spoke of?_ " he asked her curiously, and she made a humming noise in response. " _There is another snake here. I can sense it._ " he hissed into her ear, keeping his tone low as he did so. " _The king of all serpents..._ " she paused at that. The _king_ of all snakes? Now _that_ was interesting, she thought as she followed the older woman deciding that she would need to look more into that after she had been sorted into her house. That meant there was a basilisk here, but where? She cleared her mind of those thoughts, she didn't want to feel distracted from what was about to happen. She would figure out whether or not it was true at a later date and instead focused her attention on the aged looking interior of the corridor they were walking through. The stone walls surrounding them, were lit with flaming torches similar to the ones she had seen at Gringotts and the ceiling was too high to even begin to make out. And before she knew it, they had made it to a magnificent looking marble staircase which them led to the upper floors.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall magnanimously as she led the first years across the flagged stone floor and into a small, empty chamber off the hall. All of the kids crowded into the room, standing so close that Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to answer the myriad of questions Louie was quietly whispering into her ear. "The start-of-term banquet will be underway shortly, but you cannot take your seats within the Great Hall, until each of you has been sorted into your proper house. The Sorting ceremony is a very important tradition in this institution because, while you are here, your house will essentially be the closest thing you have to family within the walls of Hogwarts. You will be spending a lot of time with your classmates in each of your classes, as you sleep in your house dormitories, and as you spend your free time in each of your house's common rooms.

"There are four houses here at Hogwarts, as I’m sure you all know," she said as she looked at them, "They are called; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and _Slytherin_." she said, pausing to sneer the name of the last house before continuing, "Each house has its own noble history, and each of them has gone on to produce outstanding witches and wizards. So please keep in mind students, that once you are sorted you are a reflection of your house for the remainder of your time here at Hogwarts. Now with that in mind, I must tell you that each of your triumphs will earn your house points, and any contravening of the rules will result in a loss of house points." And as the words left her lips, she looked at the crowd with a stern expression on her face. "At the end of the year, the house that has accumulated the most points will be awarded the house cup, which is a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whatever house you end up in. Now prepare yourselves for the ceremony, it will take place in just a few minutes, in front of the rest of the school. I wouldn't want you to get up there and embarrass yourself."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on the boy who had just gotten his toad back, and she could see that his cloak had been fastened under one of his ears instead of around the back of his neck. And she chuckled inwardly when she turned back to Harry and watched him as he nervously attempted to flatten his messy black hair.

"Now wait here while I go and see if we're all set to begin the sorting ceremony. I will comeback for you all once everything is ready for us to begin," said Professor McGonagall. "So please have patience and remember to wait here quietly."

After one last look, she turned and left the chamber.

"How do you think we'll be sorted?" Harry asked her nervously.

"Haven't you read 'Hogwarts: A History' yet," she asked him with a raised eyebrow. "It was recommended to me by the shopkeeper at Flourish and Blotts. She said she recommend it to all in coming Hogwarts students, from the Muggle world." she continued, whispering the last part, lest she draw any unwanted attention from any of her future housemates.

"Well.. not really. Hagrid took me to go get my supplies but I wasn't told about that book in particular." Harry told her feeling a little put out by this.

Before she could respond, the door to the room flew open and Professor McGonagall stepped back inside.

"I hope all of you are ready," she said as she came to stand in front of the group of children, "Good! Now, form a line," she told the first years before turning back to the doorway, "and follow me."

The students fell quiet at her words and silently began to form a single file line. Hermione could feel Louie as he nuzzled himself against the skin of her neck, and felt her spirit calm at the feel of his cool scales against her flesh. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, towards a large pair of double doors. She decided to treat this situation much the same way she treated her first trip into Diagon Alley - with confidence. She didn't want the other children to see her as they saw one another - weak and terrified of what was to come.

The thought of terrified children, reminded her of the Potter boy following closely behind her. She hoped she had been able to subtly convince him enough to follow her into Slytherin, because she had no doubt that that's where she would be sorted. She could see the red headed prat Ronald as he walked ahead of them - every now and again turning his head to shoot daggers in her direction. With Harry behind her, she had not a single worry in her mind as she shot the boy a devious smirk and lifted her hand to wave at him - making sure to keep her hand out of Harry's line of sight as she did so.

They walked into the Great Hall and Hermione could hear Harry as he sucked in a gasp of air behind her. The hall was massive and it was lit by thousands and thousands of candles - all of which were floating in midair over four long tables. All of the other students from the train were seated at these tables and all of them were lined with beautiful gilded plates and glittering golden goblets. And there at the front of the hall was another extraordinarily long table, except this table was where all of the professors were seated. Professor McGonagall led the first years up to a wooden stool that had been placed in front of a podium with a filthy looking tattered hat, placed on the top of it's seat. She went to say something to Harry and noted that his eyes were still trained on the ceiling, which had been charmed to look like the night sky.

"Its bewitched," she whispered to him. "They did it with a charm that makes the ceiling look like the sky outside."

Harry looked utterly amazed and she had a hard time faulting him for it. It was very much an impressive piece of magic, and if she hadn't read about it in Hogwarts, A History, then she would find it hard to believe that there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply just open to let them gaze upon the heavens.

They stood there for a bit, waiting to be instructed on what to do next, and after a minute or two the hall fell into complete silence. Suddenly the hat began to twitch and a rip near the brim split wide open, almost like a mouth. Before she could register what the hat had just done, it began to sing:

 " _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

 

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

 

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

 

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

 

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

 

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

 

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

 

_So put me on!_

_Don't be afraid!_ _And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_ "

Once the hat stopped singing it's tiresome song, the entire hall burst into a loud applause and the hat began to bow in response - lowering its pointy tip in the direction of each of the four tables in the hall and the room became quiet once more, aside from the nervous whispers going back and forth among the group of first years.

Professor McGonagall then stepped forward from beside the stool, holding an extraordinarily long roll of parchment in her hands. She began to unravel it and then looked down at the group of first years before speaking.

"STUDENTS," she said to silence the group of assembled first years, "When you hear me call your name, I want you to step forward and sit on the stool. After you've been seated, I will place the hat on your head and you will be sorted into the house that best suits you," she told them seriously before calling for the first student. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A short girl with strawberry blonde hair rushed forward, stumbling a bit as she did so and rushed up to the stool. Once she sat down, the Professor placed the hat on top of her head and after a short pause, it yelled out;

"HUFFLEPUFF!" for the entire hall to hear.

The table with the yellow banner dangling above it, began to cheer and clap as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. After she was seated, the Professor called out the next name.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat once more, and Susan jumped off the stool and hurried over to go sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" came next and she too went to Ravenclaw, and the next to be sorted was, Lavendar Brown, who became the first new Gryffindor of the bunch, and the table with the crimson banner above it began to explode with loud obnoxious cheers; Hermione could even see those twin gingers catcalling the girl. She found it to be terribly repulsive, after all, the girl was only eleven years old.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" the woman shouted out next, and a large hefty looking girl stepped out from the group of children and began to make her way up to the stool. She became the first of them to be sorted into Slytherin, and Hermione watched as the table gave her an elegant and reserved sort of applause - almost like they were enjoying a show at the opera - while the large girl made her way over to the table.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hermione could feel the butterflies in her stomach as name after name was called, and she wondered when the woman would get to hers. She tried to squash her anxiety, but couldn't. All she could think about was walking up to that seat and having the hat declare her an imposter and reveal her as Tom Riddle and Maleficent Nafasi's long lost daughter. The woman continued shouting out student's names until finally she called out Hermione's very own.

"Granger, Hermione!" she heard her name called out and looked up to meet the kind eyes of the Professor. Harry grabbed her hand and gave it a small squeeze as she took a step towards the stool.

She sat down on the seat gracefully, and waited for the hat to touch her head, and the moment it had, she began to hear a voice in her ear, almost as if she were being whispered to.

"Hmm," said the voice, "I haven't had a Riddle in this seat for some time." and Hermione's heart began to thud wildly in her chest, if this hat knew who she was, then surely the Headmaster would know exactly who she was as soon as this ceremony was over. "Calm down child, I have no interest in the politics of wizards, my sole purpose is to place students where they will flourish best."

When Hermione released an anxious sigh in response, the hat chuckled before carrying on. "I see you have a thirst for knowledge, and you value intelligence, so perhaps Ravenclaw would be a good fit for you? But you're cunning as well, not to mention the ambition I see in you. You desire to become the strongest witch to ever live, do you not?" it asked her and Hermione thought the word yes.

"Well in that case, better be SLYTHERIN!" it said, bellowing out the name of the house. She noticed that the students there weren't half as eager to great her, as the other houses had done with their own first years, but it was of no matter to her. She knew the only reason why they were quiet, was because of the filthy last name she had been given by her adoptive parents. Once she proved herself to be the best among them, they would have no other choice but to accept her. She looked at Professor McGonnagall after she removed the hat from her head and noted the shift in her expression. She went from warm and welcoming to cold and distant all in just the short amount of time it took for her to be sorted.

As she stepped down from the stool, she made quick eye contact with Harry before making her way over to the Slytherin table. As she sat down, she noticed a few of the Slytherins looking down their noses at her and she found herself wanting to lash out as a result. But she held herself there and waited for the part of the sorting she was most anxious for. Harry Potter's. . .

She knew there was no way for her to use Harry's celebrity to her advantage if he happened to be sorted into another house, specifically Gryffindor. She watched as child after child was sorted into each of the four houses. She wasn't surprised when the Malfoy boy was sorted into Slytherin - the hat barely touching his head before shouting out the name of the house. He didn't seem to be the most cunning boy she'd ever come across - though she attributed much of that to his age as well as the fact that he seemed to be ridiculously spoiled. But where he wasn't cunning, he made up for it in ambition. The moment he walked into their compartment on the train, she could tell then, that the boy was _very_ ambitious. Maybe even almost as ambitious as she was. She could tell that he wanted to use Harry in much the same way as she did, but she honestly didn't know why. He already had money, and a respectable name among the sacred twenty eight. She watched as the boy went to join his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with his sorting before looking down the table to where she sat and nodding in her direction. She nodded her head in return and turned her head back to the line of students, noticing that there weren't many people left to sort now.

She listened to the severe looking woman as she called out the names; Moon, Nott, Parkinson and then a pair of twin girls, the Patils and then, at long last she reached the name she had been waiting for -

"Potter, Harry!" the woman called out and the entire hall lit up with loud whispers, many of them belonging to students who were speculating who he was and what house he was going to get sorted into.

" _Potter? Did she just say Potter_?"

" _Thee Harry Potter_?"

" _We all know what house he's getting sorted into_."

" _He'll be Gryffindor for sure_."

She blocked out all of their voices and watched in anticipation as Harry stepped forward, and sat down on the stool. Hermione watched with bated breath as the stern looking older woman placed the hat on top of his head. He sat there for about three minutes until at last the brim of the hat opened wide and shouted out for the entire hall to hear.

"SLYTHERIN!"

She found herself releasing a breath she wasn't even aware that she was holding, meanwhile the rest of the hall erupted into gasps and whispers. She could even hear one of the Slytherins excitedly whispering to another, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Hermione rolled her eyes at their excitement, and watched with a satisfied smile as Harry sought her eyes out and gave her a half smile before jumping off the stool and making his way over to the Slytherin table. He plopped down on the seat right beside her and nudged her arm with his elbow.

"The hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor," he said, whispering the words into her ear.

"Why didn't you go?" she asked, genuinely curious as it had seemed only moments earlier that he was dead set against Slytherin.

"I don't know really," he said with a shrug, "I just felt like someone put far too much effort into making me want to go to Gryffindor, well before I even knew what the Hogwarts houses were, or the traits of each house."

"What about that made you want to spite your invisible puppet master, and pick Slytherin instead?"

"Well, I didn't tell you this earlier, but I met Malfoy long before he came into our compartment on the train." Harry confessed to her. "And when we met then, he was genuinely nice to me and we shared a few laughs in Madam Malkins while being fitted for our uniforms. And you, you didn't have to help me back at King's Cross station, you could've just left me there stranded, not knowing how to find the platform or how to even cross it. Not to mention, you've been nice to me ever since. And once I saw that the two of you were sorted into Slytherin, I figured that most of the nasty things I've heard about this house and it's students, had to be made up based on some kind of bias."

Before she could respond, she was distracted by someone dropping down into the seat directly across from them and looked up to meet the gray eyes of Draco Malfoy, with his two cronies from the train taking the seats to either side of him. She could tell that he either wanted to ask Harry a few questions or gloat like the rest of the Slytherins that they had actually got _thee_ Harry Potter. Just as the Malfoy boy began trying to engage Harry in a conversation, she felt as if someone were watching her.

She looked around at her table and couldn't find the culprit, so she began to scan the other house tables. Finding that none of the other students were watching her, she then turned her attention to the High Table. At one end of the table sat the Professor that had come to her home to tell her about Hogwarts - Professor Snape. Next to him sat the man she had seen in the Leaky Cauldron — the man with a big purple turban. Just as she was about to move her eyes away from the man, he looked up and made eye contact with her again. _His eyes_... Now that she could see them in a better light, they seemed to flash in an almost _familiar_ way as he looked at her. Confused, she shook her head before ripping her eyes away from the man and continued running her eyes down the row of professors, until her eyes landed on the owner of the ones she felt watching her.

There in the very center of the High Table, in a ridiculously large gold throne-like chair, sat the man that she _knew_ had to be Albus Dumbledore. She knew who he was the moment she laid eyes on him, having decided to research him after Fídi warned her against him. When she looked him up she found out about what he had done with Gellert Grindlewald, and all his ostensible philanthropic works thereafter. What had surprised her the most then, was the photo she had seen of him. He looked almost identical to the description that Sister Gertrude had shared with her back at the orphanage. He stared at her like she was a puzzle that he wanted to figure out, and even after she noticed him looking, he still continued to stare. He only stopped when the Professor that had sorted them, came and sat down beside him.

He whispered something into her ear, before getting up and moving to address the crowd of students. He had a huge beaming smile on his face, a smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes no matter how saccharine he wanted it to appear. As he stepped up to the podium, and looked down at the students, his eyes seemed to linger for a moment on her and the boy seated beside her.

"Welcome," he said, tearing his eyes away from the two of them. "Welcome children, to a wonderful new year at Hogwarts! Now, before we begin our magnificent banquet, I would like to share with you a few choice words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

"Is he - a bit mad?" she asked and could hear Draco laugh from across the table. "What the hell does any of that even mean?"

"The hell if I know," said another voice that she was unfamiliar with, and Hermione tore her attention away from her former kidnapper and looked to see who it was. The owner of the voice was a dark skinned boy with low cut hair, who had apparently come to join them after he had been sorted.

Hermione quickly looked around to see all of those that had come to sit beside them, once Harry took the seat beside her. She saw that aside from the dark skinned boy, the dark-haired boy from the boat had come to sit beside them. She remembered that the boy's name was Theodore Nott, from when he had been sorted. Across the table from Theodore sat a small group of girls; Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Tracey Davis.

She half listened to the Headmaster’s speech as she silently observed her fellow housemates. Some of the girls were shooting her wary looks, with the Parkinson girl downright sneering at her. _I’ll_ _be_ _keeping_ _my_ _eyes_ _on_ _that_ _one_ , she thought as she smiled in the girl’s direction, and began to look around the table again.

Once the older man was done speaking, all of the tables began to line themselves with a variety of delicious foods and everyone began to fill their plates. She noticed that Harry had nearly filled his plate beyond it's means and food was beginning to spill over the plate's edges. Hermione couldn't help but to sniff in distaste as she watched the boy begin to gorge himself before she began making her own plate of food. She daintily placed a single chicken breast on her plate, with a small serving of green beans, and a small helping of mashed potatoes. Everyone around her watched as she made her plate, obviously expecting her to pig out like the rest of them, and they were all shocked when she began eating her food and made no moves to add anything more to her plate.

Hermione had no intention of making herself look like a disgusting pig at this feast, as first impressions were everything. And she was a lady after all, and not only that but she was also a member of a great house, no matter if that house was a foreign Greek house, she still intended to be viewed as a proper ambassador for the Nafasi family - once her true identity was eventually revealed. She took small bites of her food, noting that the only other person who hadn't filled their plate to bursting, was the young Malfoy heir. In fact, his plate was very similar looking to her own, with one source of protein, one source of vegetables, and a serving of carbs. Once she was finished eating she saw that everyone around her had finished eating as well, and Harry, looked as if he were going to try and have a kip right here at the table, his face was that content. He looked at her and smiled before his eyes moved over her head and towards the High Table. She watched as he scanned the table full of professors before he suddenly clapped his hand to his forehead, with a loud, "Ouch!"

"What is it?" she asked him, feeling somewhat alarmed.

"N-nothing." he stammered, as he pulled his hand away from his forehead.

"Are you sure?" she asked, wondering if the Headmaster had done something.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked.

"Professor Quirrell?" she wondered out loud.

"The man with the purple turban." he said, nodding his head in the direction of the man, and Hermione remembered him from her own inspection of the table. _So the man’s name was Professor Quirrell..._ She would need to look into him a bit more, and find out why she felt a strange familiarity with this man that she never met.

"Ah, so I take it that you're talking about Professor Snape then?" she said instead, recalling that Professor Snape had been the one seated beside the man in the turban — Professor Quirrell.

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry said while nodding his head.

"That's the head of our house, Professor Snape." she said with a slight smile and a shrug, not really thinking anything of it. "As of now, I have no idea what subject he teaches, but I'm confident that we'll learn more about him as the school year progresses." she continued, placing a comforting hand on his back for a moment before pulling her hand away.

A few moments later, all of the food, plates, and goblets disappeared from the table and two of the older Slytherins - a boy and a girl - stood up and moved to the front of the table. The boy spoke up first;

"Hello fellow Slytherins, my name is Phineas Travers, and this is Elladora Shafiq. We're the fifth year prefects for Slytherin." and once he stopped talking, the girl immediately picked up where he stopped, "Now if you will all get up from your seats and follow us, we will show you down to the dungeons where our common room and sleeping quarters are located."

Before they made to stand up, she could feel Harry grasp her hand beneath the table in what she assumed to be solidarity. She turned to Harry and gave him a small smile before pulling her hand free and standing up.

As they made their way out of the Great Hall, she could feel eyes on her the entire time as she walked. Some how she knew it had to be the Headmaster, so she kept her eyes trained straight ahead, unwilling to risk making eye contact with him a second time, before she was ready. But she did spare herself a smile for making it through the day without any issues whatsoever.

She was correct in her assumption though, the Headmaster indeed had his eyes trained on her as she left the Great Hall with her classmates - a million thoughts running through his mind about how a Muggleborn could’ve possibly made it into Slytherin.

However, unbeknownst to both Hermione and Dumbledore, there was an additional set of eyes that followed her as she exited the room with her housemates, but for an entirely different reason than the elder man that was seated at the same table.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and your well wishes on my project. Let's just say it was intense. Lol.
> 
> Super weird, but did you guys know that if you take an actual look at the schedule - according to what was written in the book - the first year students only attend about 2 or 3 classes per day? Like what the hell? Lol. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, please read and review to let me know what you all think.

Her first night in the dorms was admittedly rough, if she had to use any word to try and describe it, but it wasn't anything she hadn't already experienced before. The girl that she had decided she needed to keep an eye on apparently felt the need to  _try_  and exert her dominance over her on the very first night. As soon as she and her roommates made it into their room, the dim witted twat had encouraged the other girls to take the beds nearest to the one she had chosen for herself - as if she had actually wanted to be any where near the dog faced girl - this left Hermione with the bed that was closest to the door. She saw no issue with this, so she gladly accepted the bed that was the furthest away from them all.

Hermione thought it was cute at first - convincing the other girls to ostricise her. She had to admit, it was definitely a smart strategy for one to utilise in order to try and establish a form of dominance over another person. It was almost foolproof in its ability to help create both fear and respect in someone you were looking to intimidate, without really putting forth much of an effort. But luckily enough for Hermione she had never needed anyone to make her feel stronger, in her mind she was already the big fish in this small pond. So while the idea might have been conventionally smart on her part, it was ultimately a poor decision in the long run. None of these girls knew how unforgiving she could be, and when she finally got the chance to establish herself as a great power among them, she would remember each and every slight made against her. So that's how, on the very first day of classes, Pansy Parkinson had managed to place herself at the top of a very short list when she had decided to wake Hermione the following morning by dousing her in ice cold water.

Revenge was something that Hermione felt as if she specialized in - having always been a social outcast for most of her life, she was subjected to many attempts at bullying. Though after a few broken arms, legs, and the one instance when she rendered one particularly annoying boy blind - children typically learnt to steer clear of her. So being woken up to the alarming sensation of feeling as if she were being drowned, was definitely something that she felt warranted her retribution. When she popped out of her bed soaking wet and shivering, only to see Pansy Parkinson standing over her with her wand pointed in her face and water pouring out the tip of it - Hermione knew that she would have to handle this girl, and handle her fast. She had no intention of spending the entirety of this year being bullied by this pug nosed, inbred little cunt.

She could feel the need for revenge even more as it churned in her core and rose up like bile in her stomach, once she turned her head and got a look at her bed curtains. Hermione could see the word  _MUDBLOOD_  scrawled across the satiny fabric in harshly written letters.  _How original_ , she thought as she rolled her eyes, remembering the times she would wake up at the orphanage to find her belongings tampered with or the word freak written on some of her things. She was somewhat disappointed by this development however, simply because of the fact that she thought that in the very least if the bullying followed her into the magical world, that these children would at least be original. Because she had no desire to put up with the magical equivalent of the exact same muggle bullying techniques she had already grown accustomed to.

"Good, you're up," the girl sneered down at her, as Hermione made to stand in front of her. "I thought a little wash down would be the perfect way to wake up  _filth_  like you. Couldn't have you stinking up the room with your foul  _mudblood_  odor, now could I?" she continued, smirking maliciously at her as she spoke, "And I don't know if you caught the hint last night, but I want to make it perfectly clear now. You're not welcome here  _m_ _udblood_." Pansy sneered at her, while lowering her wand. "So, I suggest you get used to this type of treatment from your betters."

 _Betters_? Hermione scoffed at the thought that this pug nosed bitch could  _ever_  be her better, but otherwise remained silent. She didn't get to the point she was now, by flying off the handle like some irrational loon. Hermione prided herself on her ability to think out each and every one of her decisions and all possible benefits or ramifications of said move. So she looked around the room for a moment, taking note of who else the raven haired girl had backing her up.

Behind the Parkinson girl, she could see all three of her other roommates standing with their arms crossed and sneers plastered on each of their faces. The Bulstrode and Greengrass chits seemed to be far more invested in the act than their other roommate, Tracey Davis, and Hermione found  _that_  to be interesting. She seemed to be the only one of the few of them, that didn't really seem to have her heart in it.

Tracey would obviously be the weakest link of this chain to attack, but Hermione had a different plan developing in her mind for the dark haired girl. One that would involve the dark haired girl turning traitor on the assembled group of girls in order for her to break them down from the inside. After using the bathroom and quickly getting ready for the day, she was pleased to see that Pansy and her friends had left their room and were long gone, and luckily for her, Harry was already downstairs in the common room waiting for her when she came down.

"Hey Hermione," Harry smiled once he saw her, "How was your first night in your room?"

"Well enough," she lied with a smile, "what about yours?"

"Strange," he said, picking up his school bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. "They kept asking me questions about what I could remember from... well...  _that_  night."

"Ohh." Hermione said, not knowing how else to respond as they both began walking towards the exit. "I'm sorry to hear about that. I thought  _they_  would at least be different."

"Well Crabbe and Goyle were the main ones asking me all the questions, Malfoy and Nott just sat off to the side listening to it all." Harry said with a shrug, "But it wasn't anything vulgar like wanting to know if I saw my parents die or something, so I suppose it wasn't too bad. All they wanted to know was how I defeated You-Know-Who."

"Ohh," she said, not really caring as her mind kept drawing back to thoughts of revenge against the Parkinson chit. If Harry noticed her lack of interest, he didn't say anything in regard to it, so she left it alone.

As soon as they made it up to the upper corridors, whispers began to follow them. There were students and teachers alike, all lining up outside classrooms and some even standing on their tiptoes just to get a look at the boy beside her. Some of the more starstruck students would double back just to pass him in the corridors again.

_"He's over there."_

_"Where?"_

_"Next to the girl with the green eyes and curly brown hair."_

_"The one wearing the glasses?"_

_"Duh! Didn't you see him yesterday when he was sorted?"_

_"Of course I saw him! Did_ you _see his face?"_

 _"Did_ you _see his scar?"_

The whispers continued and followed them all the way up to the Great Hall for breakfast. Luckily enough for her, when they entered the Great Hall she could see that the front table was still relatively empty, and the Headmaster was no where in sight. Students were still gawking at Harry as if he were some type of mythical creature, as he rushed from her side and immediately scurried up to their table where a full buffet of food had already been set out. She could hardly hold his eagerness against him though, having already seen how frail he appeared due to whatever his living conditions were before he arrived at Hogwarts. So she wasn't surprised when - in much the same fashion as he had the night before - he began to pile his breakfast plate sky high and chowed down on the large pile of food with abandon, while Hermione daintily grabbed two pieces of toast and a little marmalade to smear on top. She wanted to keep her breakfast light, so she wouldn't feel too weighed down as they sought out their classes.

They ate in silence, which Hermione preferred, but their peacefully quiet breakfast was soon interrupted when they were joined by the Malfoy heir and his assembled group of followers, and Hermione reluctantly had to admit that for a boy so small and scrawny, he certainly had a way of influencing those around him. She didn't know if he already knew all of these boys personally, but it certainly seemed as if all the boys within their age group in Slytherin house, all looked to him as a de facto leader of sorts. And as soon as they sat down, they immediately began trying to speak to Harry, with Malfoy putting on quite the show for all the other students - almost like he was trying to make them jealous that  _Harry Potter_  was in Slytherin and was one of  _his_  friends. Hermione almost wanted to roll her eyes at him for being so blatantly obvious with his intentions, anyone with eyes could see that he wanted to add Harry to his collection of associates, all for the sake of being able to say that he was friends with a wizarding celebrity.

 _This_  is why she  _needed_  Harry; she knew he would be the key to her assimilation into the house.

Seconds later, the atmosphere at the table changed, and she could physically  _feel_  the moment Pansy and her little clique of bitches came and joined the table a few moments later. Pansy looked at her, shooting her a malicious smirk before leaning over and saying, "Hello Harry, I don't think we had the chance to properly acquaint ourselves yesterday. My name is Pansy, Pansy Parkinson." with a false smile on her face.

Harry looked back and forth between Hermione and Pansy for a moment and somehow — even without her guidance, he seemed to sense the tension going on between the two of them, before saying cooly, "Hello Pansy." and turning back to Malfoy and his friends, all of whom were gaping at his icy response to the Parkinson twit.

Pansy sat there for a moment, gaping like a fish before her face went puce with rage. She stood up hastily and rushed down the table - clearing her throat as she walked past the other girls as a sign for them to follow her. Hermione smiled into her cup of orange juice as she watched the girl stomp away. She turned and looked at Harry and he shot her a small smile. Hermione smiled back at him before making a mental note of how he responded just then with Pansy. Perhaps he  _wasn't_  as dense as she had previously been thinking.

After a short while, Professor Snape appeared at the head of their table, and began to pass out their time tables for the year. She looked at her time table with eager eyes, her heart palpitating in her chest slightly as it finally set in that today was her very first day learning to control different forms of magic. Her classes consisted of Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Herbology, and a class on flying.. Wait.. flying, as in  _leaving_  the safety of the ground to go up into the air? These people couldn't possibly be serious. She had always hated heights for almost as long as she could remember. It was a fear of hers that stemmed from her stay in the orphanage.

She could vividly recall the memory of what happened, almost as if it had just experienced it a few moments ago.

_It had been five days, since she had been locked in the Abyss and she wanted, no. She needed to get out of here. She had been kneeling on the bed with her face pressed against the cool glass of the window, her hand situated just beside her cheek as she stared out into the night sky. She had spent the entire day, sitting at this window, hoping to be free of these hellish people._

_She stared at the starlit sky for a moment before closing her eyes and wishing with all of her might to leave this place, and the next thing she knew, the glass in the window pane had completely disappeared. Her head slumped forward and out of the now empty window pane and she was hit with a gust of cool nighttime air. Curiously, she poked her head further out of the window and began to look around. Could she escape through here? Is that what this was supposed to mean? She didn't know, but she was willing to give it a shot._

_Climbing out of the window, Hermione landed on the ledge of the roof to the third floor with a soft thud, and began to look around. She was out! She wanted to jump up and down and do a little dance, but didn't dare for fear of falling off the edge of the roof. Now that she had finally made it out of that god forsaken building, she needed to form a plan._

_How was she supposed to get down to the ground without hurting herself in the process? She began to peer over the edge of the roof and down to the ground below. The smartest idea she could think of at the moment was to try and find a way to the back of the building, where the fire escape was located. From there, she would be able to climb down to the ground and start to make a run for it - though she didn't know where exactly she would be running to once she got down there._

_Hermione turned her body towards the roof and braced her hands against the rough surface of the shingles. Taking a deep breath, she began to move, making slow measured steps as she shimmied along the edge of the rooftop. She wouldn't deny that she was nervous, but she tried not to focus on that as she slid her feet along the edge of the roof. She didn't get more than a meter away from the attic window before she felt her foot slip and the next thing she knew, she was dangling from the ledge._

_Her hands were wrapped firmly around the rain gutters, gripping it for all it was worth as she tried to pull herself back up to the top. The gutters on the orphanage were old and rusty, having not been replaced since the building had been built in 1920, and they dug into her palms as she attempted to heft her body weight up over and over again. Her heart was hammering away in her chest as she looked down at the ground once more and this time the ground looked much further away than she had previously thought._

_She didn't want to fall... She didn't want to die. Not like this, or any other way for that matter. Death was the reason she was even in this godforsaken place. Death was a weakness that both of her parents had succumbed to - it had to be. How else would she have ended up in an orphanage of all places._

_It was something she would never submit to - ever. All of these thoughts left her mind as she felt her grip on the ledge beginning to weaken – her arms feeling like lead in their sockets.._

"Hey... Hey Hermione, you ready?" she heard a voice ask, freeing her from the memory she had just been trapped in. She looked up to see that it was Harry, and he had a concerned look on his face as he stared back at her. Hermione took her eyes away from him for a moment to look around the table to see who else had seen her like that, and saw that the rest of their table was almost completely empty.

"Yeah," she said, shaking her head as she made to stand.

"You okay?" he asked her, looking at her face intently as he spoke, "You looked a little zoned out back there."

"I'm fine Harry," she lied smoothly with a smile on her face - pushing the thoughts of flying out of her mind as she readied herself for their first class of the day - Potions. "Lets get going to our first class, we wouldn't want to be late now, would we?"

He shook his head and grasped the strap of his school bag before standing up with her. As they began to walk out of the Great Hall, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a note.

"So I got this at breakfast," he said as he passed it over to Hermione and let her read it.

"So Hagrid wants you to come by and see him this Friday..." she said as she passed the note back to him, "Are you going to go?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, after everything you all told me, I don't know if I feel entirely comfortable being around him by myself."

"Oh," she responded noncommittally, losing interest in the topic while mentally preparing herself for their first class of the day - Potions.

"Yeah. Do you.. well... if I go, do you think you could come with me?" Harry stammered out nervously.

"Sure," she said absentmindedly as they approached a door at the end of the corridor and Harry - in an attempt to be chivalrous - hurried up to the door and tried to open it. He twisted the doorknob this way and that way, but no matter which way Harry turned the knob the door continued to remain firmly shut. He stopped for a moment and exhaled an exasperated breath before trying it again, only to yield the same result. Hermione nudged him out of the way in order to give it a try for herself. She twisted and turned that knob, and the door continued to remain closed.  _Curious_ , she thought, twisting the knob once more before finally giving up on it for the moment.

"What the hell?" she mumbled, inspecting the doorknob, "What do you think -

"What are you two doing?" a raspy voice cut in from behind them. "Trying to break into the out-of-bounds corridor, are you?"

They turned around and came face to face with the snarly looking caretaker, Argus Filch. His eyes were alight with a mischievous gleam, one that was easily recognized by her. She knew in that moment that even if they told him the truth of how they ended up at this door, he wouldn't believe them anyway. Hermione turned her head to look at Harry to try and convey this thought, but she was too late, he was already opening up his mouth to respond.

"No sir!" he said emphatically. "We didn't even know that this corridor was out-of-bounds, I swear."

"Like I would believe you," he snarled, "You think that just because you're Harry Potter, I'm suppose to believe every little thing that falls from your mouth? Your celebrity won't work on me boy, I'm taking you two to the Headmaster's office."

"But we weren't doing anything wrong, I swear!" he exclaimed and Hermione fought the desire to clap her hand over his mouth in an effort to silence him, all the while trying to calm the racing of her heart. She was hardly ready for an encounter with the Headmaster, and had no desire to go any where near his office until she had the chance to perfect her occlumency shields. 

"Is t-t-there a p-p-problem here A-a-argus?" she heard a soft stuttering voice say from behind the caretaker.

The man turned around, and behind him stood the professor with the large purple turban, Professor Quirrell. He made eye contact with her for a moment and she felt a tingling in her chest as she looked at him. The professor turned his attention back to the caretaker and began speaking once more.

"Shouldn't t-t-these students b-b-be in class?" he asked the older man, only for the man to snarl in response.

"Yes!" he said, "And that's the reason why I'll be escorting these rule breakers to Professor Dumbledore's office."

"T-there's no n-n-need for all of t-t-that." he said quickly, before turning to Hermione and Harry and continuing, "You're f-f-first years a-a-aren't you? That m-means you h-h-have Potions for f-f-first period. Let m-me escort you b-b-both there."

Hermione couldn't help but to look at the man with thinly disguised suspicion.  _Why was he helping them right now?_  She thought as she looked at him,  _and where did he even come from?_  She wondered, thinking of how he seemed to appear out of nowhere to help them.

"Come a-along c-c-children," the professor said as he turned on his heel and strode back down the corridor, Harry immediately falling into step behind him, and Hermione walking a few paces behind the two of them. She studied the professor as they walked, noting his gait and his mannerisms. He looked like he was nervous and shaky, but his eyes... His eyes told a completely different story.

Before she knew it, they were outside of a dimly lit classroom and the turban clad professor turned and said, "Well h-h-here we a-are students." before knocking on the door and opening it up.

The class had already been in session, and she could see Professor Snape looking like he was less than pleased at the interruption as he stood at the front of the class.

"S-some of y-y-your students g-g-got a little t-t-turned around in the h-hall."

"Nice of the two of you to finally join us." Professor Snape drawled as he stared at the two of them in the doorway. "Well... don't just stand there you two,  _sit down_ ," he grit out and Hermione was slightly upset with the impression she had made on the man, on the first day of classes for god's sake.

They scurried into the class and into two empty seats at the back of the class. Once they sat down, she could hear snickering coming from the other side of the room and looked up to see the laughing face of Ronald Weasley.

"Something funny Mr. Weasley?" Snape barked at him and the boy shut up instantly.

"No sir." the boy squawked out before looking down at his desk.

"Good." he said, before cutting his eyes over to Hermione and Harry and then looking over the rest of the students.

"As I was saying  _before_  I was interrupted. While you are here in my class, you will be learning the subtle science, and exact art that is potion making," he drawled, his voice barely going above a whisper as he spoke. "You will find that there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

The class remained completely silent as he finished speaking. His words flowing through Hermione's mind in particular as she felt herself become instantly enthralled by the possibility of brewing potions that would help her bewitch minds, and ensnare one's senses. She was on the edge of her seat eager to absorb all that he had to teach them.

"Potter!" Snape suddenly called out. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry shot her concerned look before turning to face the professor.

"I um.. I don't know, sir," he said, his voice a little shaky as he spoke.

Hermione was a little taken aback when she saw Snape's lips curl up into an ugly sneer.

"Tut, tut," he said chastising the boy, "I see fame clearly isn't everything."

Hermione desperately wanted to raise her hand and tell him the answer, but the look on their professor's face told her that he was trying to make a point by being mean to Harry. She considered for a moment that perhaps he was like her in a way, and wasn't enchanted by this boy's celebrity but his next words quickly killed that thought for her.

It was obvious that the man was out to embarrass him, but she didn't know why. And she had a hard time trying to rationalize why a fully grown man would purposefully antagonize an eleven year old child.

"Well let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to go and find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, sir." he mumbled, looking away from Professor Snape to stare down at his desk.

"Thought you wouldn't have to open a book before coming to class, eh, Potter?"

Hermione knew the answer to this question as well, but she doubted that any of the other children that came in from the muggle world had read all of their textbooks as she had done. So she doubted that Harry knew what a bezoar was or let alone where to find it. She wondered what his point was for singling Harry out when there were plenty of other children in this class to choose from, but Snape seemed to be ignoring the rest of their class, simply just to focus on Harry. Out the corner of her eye, she could see Weasley and his Gryfinndor friends trying to hold in their laughter at Harry's embarrassment.

"Weasley!" he said abruptly, at the sound of the other boy's snickering. "Since you seem to think that this is so funny, I suppose you wouldn't mind sharing with us the difference is between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Well um. I-I-I don't really know sir." he stammered out before his face went tomato red.

"Well then shut your mouth Weasley, and pay attention!" Snape drawled, before turning his attention back to the class. "Can anyone answer the questions I asked?"

Hermione looked around the class and saw that no one wanted to take the chance of raising their hands, and risk the possibility of being torn into by Snape. And after a moment or two, Hermione could still see that no one was going to raise their hand, so she slowly rose her own into the air.

"Miss Granger," he said, focusing his attention on her.

"Sir, when powdered root of asphodel is added to an infusion of wormwood it comes together to create a powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death. And a bezoar is a stone that has been taken from the stomach of a goat and it can save someone from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they're the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."

Snape looked impressed by her knowledge but he didn't say anything to acknowledge it.

Instead, he looked out over the assembled group of students and yelled, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Suddenly the room was filled with the sound of students rummaging in their bags for quills and parchment. Over the noise, she could hear Snape as he said, "And fifteen points to Slytherin for knowing the proper answer."

The class went by rather quickly and by the end of the lesson they had learned what potion they would be brewing that Friday, which was a simple boil curing potion. When the bell rung at the end of class, Hermione rounded up all of her belongings and stood, while waiting for Harry to join her.

They began making their way to their next class, making sure to keep up with the other students from their house as they did so - neither of them wanting to end up lost again. Malfoy and his friends fell into step beside them and the blond boy nudged her arm to get her attention.

"What happened to the two of you?" he asked, his voice a whisper as he spoke.

"We got turned around in the corridor that's supposedly out-of-bounds," she responded and noticed his eyebrow lift in curiosity at her words.

Before he could ask another question, they arrived outside of the room for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

* * *

The Defence class seemed as if it had past relatively fast, and before she knew it they were done for the day. The class had been far more unusual than her Potions lesson earlier, and one thing she was certain of by the end of the lesson was that Professor Quirrell was a very strange man, that was for sure. His classroom reeked of a very strong garlicky smell, that the professor immediately explained away as a form of protection against a vampire he'd met in Romania and was fearful of him coming back to get him. Another strange occurrence of the Defence class that day was that Professor Quirrell had held the class in its entirety without once ever looking in her direction - something she was eternally grateful for. She didn't know how she would be able to handle this class if she had to look into those eyes of his and get that strange feeling in her stomach.

And when one of those nosy Gryfinndors asked him where he had gotten his turban, he made up an obviously false story about having gotten it from an African prince as a form of a "thank-you" for getting rid of a zombie. When questioned further about it by the same Gryfinndor boy that had initiated the discussion about his turban, the man had gone completely pink in the face and immediately began trying to discuss the weather with them. The class was strange to say the least, but she figured things could've been far worse - he could've been a completely incompetent teacher. Instead he was just a teacher that had an abnormally nervous disposition about himself, one that for the most part, kept the students from even paying him the slightest of attention.

"M-miss Granger, c-c-could I see you f-for a m-moment." he stuttered as the class began to clear out.

"Yes Professor," she said as she slung her bag over her shoulder and began to make her way towards his desk. She didn't know what the professor could possibly want from her, but all she hoped was that he didn't  _look_  at her during this discussion. She didn't know what she would do, if she had to look into those eyes again.

Once the last student had stepped foot out of the class and the room was cleared out, the strange professor lifted his wand and mumbled a spell that made the door swing closed and lock.

"I am only going to ask you this once and only once, do you hear me?" the man growled out, with absolutely no trace of his previous stutter. "Who are you?"

The sudden transition took her off guard, and she found herself feeling out of her element as the air seemed to shift and become thick with an indescribable energy. His eyes - as always - were the first thing she noticed, they seemed so clear and coherent - nothing like the pitiful mess that had just led her hour and a half long Defence class. And they were dark, like obsidian. Hermione wanted to run, but felt like she had been glued to the spot on the floor where she stood.

"Answer me child!" he demanded as he stalked up to her.

"H-Hermione Granger," she stammered.

"Don't you dare lie to me!"

"I'm not, I swear!" she said, finally finding her footing and backing away from the man.

"Dumbledore must surely be suffering from senility, if he thinks that  _this_  is the best plan of action to bait me out," he muttered angrily to himself before pointing his wand at her and saying, " _Finite Incantatem_."

"What the -" he started before releasing an angry growl and pointing his wand at her once more. " _Skotósei Xórki,_ " he hissed and Hermione's eyes widened in response. Though she was unaware of what exactly he was saying, there was no denying that he could only be speaking one language - parseltongue.

 _How was this even possible_? Hermione thought frantically.  _Had Fídi lied to her_?  _No_. That couldn't possibly be, Fídi was the only creature on this earth that she trusted implicitly. When they discussed the supposed "dead" snake language, he had shared with her that parseltongue was a language that could only be shared through blood - meaning it was a hereditary trait, one that could only be passed down from parent to progeny. Which was the reason why Fídi had told her to keep quiet about that ability of hers. This meant that there could only be  _one_  reason as to why this man knew parseltongue, and just the thought of it made her heart skip a beat the moment it crossed her mind.

"I don't have time for this," he growled harshly — the sound of his voice tearing her away from her wondering thoughts. But before she could ask him any questions to try and confirm her theory, he grabbed her up by the collar and pulled her close enough to get eye contact. " _Legilimens_ ," he hissed just before plunging into her poorly guarded mind.

The feeling of him invading her mind, was almost indescribable in the amount of pain it created. It felt as if an anvil had been placed on her skull, with the amount of pressure he unleashed on her with his mental invasion. He was ruthless in his legilimency and she felt woefully unprepared as she crumbled before him. It took him all of four minutes to dismantle the flimsy occlumency shields that she had managed to teach herself how to erect over the Summer.

Before her mind could register anything more, she felt him begin to probe even deeper through the contents of her brain. Moving from her conscious thoughts and pushing himself even deeper into her mind. And suddenly he was rushing through each and every one of her memories - flipping through them one-by-one like a Rolodex of information in her mind. He flipped through them quickly, as if searching for something specific - as he worked his way all the way back to her very first memory. The memory of her waking up in the orphanage for the very first time. From there, he moved chronologically through her memories, focusing on particular memories as he went, like; her very first conversation with Fídi, the abuse she had suffered, her sadistic killing of Sister Eunice and the subsequent act of burning down the orphanage, her meeting Professor Snape for the very first time, and her first trip to Diagon Alley and how she had seen him in the Leaky Cauldron... and just like that, she could feel him slithering back out of her mind, far more gently than he had entered it.

When he was finally out, she keeled over and clutched her knees trying to catch her breath, unaware that she had been holding it since he began his assault on her mind.

"This can't be true." he said, looking at her in disbelief, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, "All these years...I thought you were dead," he told her, his hand moving up to cup her left cheek and tilting her head up to look at him. He stared at her for a while, looking deep into her eyes as the pad of his thumb moved affectionately over the surface of her cheekbone. Hermione's heart was thudding at top speed as she looked back into the dark eyes of Professor Quirrell, she didn't know what to say, but all signs were pointing to her earlier thoughts being true. Could this man truly be who she thought him to be? She got the answer to her unasked question seconds later with his next few words, "Morgana, is it  _really_  you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parseltongue spell Quirrelldemort uses, is google's rendition of ancient Greek (so don't attack me if it's wrong). I've decided to base the parselmagic on for this fic on the Greek language simply because, Herpo the Foul was the earliest recorded parselmouth in HP lore, and he lived in ancient Greece. So I don't think it would be too far fetched to think that he would begin dabbling in ways to combine parseltongue and spell creation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get used to this mushy stuff. We'll be back to the usual next week. Lol. Please R&R, I love reading what you all think

"Daddy?" Hermione said, unable to stop the unfamiliar word from slipping past her lips, no matter how strange it felt on her tongue.

Before she could register just exactly what was going on, Professor Quirrell dropped down to his knees and wrapped her in his arms for a tight embrace.

" _Oh my little princess_ ," he hissed into her hair in parseltongue. " _I thought I would never see you again_."

She stiffened in his hold, before slowly relaxing against him. Hermione couldn't remember ever being held in such a way before and felt something inside her break the longer he held her. " _Oh daddy_ ," she cried in the snake language, tears falling from her eyes for the first time in eight years as she returned his embrace.

His grip around her tightened even more as he heard her speaking in Parseltongue, happy to have his thoughts confirmed even more by her proving to him who she was with just those words alone. One of his hands slowly moved over the back of her head while she cried into the thick material of his robes. This was honestly the last thing that she was expecting when she came to Hogwarts, but she was eternally grateful for it. Though something still felt a bit off about their reunion, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

He pulled away from her, to look at her again. "You look so much like your mother, it's insane." He told her as he looked into her emerald coloured eyes, his face filled with a nostalgic type of wonder, and suddenly he was back to looking how he did when he had first entered her mind. "Your memories... That's how you grew up?" he asked, his eyes hardening as he spoke.

She nodded her head slowly, waiting to hear what he would say next. She hoped that he wouldn't be ashamed of her since she had been raised in the muggle world.

He sprung up from his kneeling position and began to pace the length of his desk, "Tell me in your own words what you remember Morgana because to be quite honest your memories left more to be desired for me. Though I did find a few of them to be rather interesting," he told her, the corner of his mouth tugging up slightly before falling back down.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up and moved to one of the desks in the front of the class before taking a seat, "Well," she began, "I'm not certain of whether or not you know this, but I have an eidetic memory, and I can remember every day of my life, starting with the first night I woke up at the orphanage. I was scared and confused because I had woken up in a place that I was completely unfamiliar with, and not only that but I also had no idea  _who_  I was either. The next morning I discovered that I was at an orphanage and that I had arrived in the thick of the night, with nothing more than a green and black blanket, a silk nightgown, and a card that said  _"Baby Girl Delird"_. It was assumed that my last name was Delird, so one of the nuns working there began calling me Hermione and the name stuck. The orphanage I was left in was a religious establishment that belonged to the Catholic Church, and they loved abusing me under the guise of 'protecting' my spirit from the temptation of the devil.

"I lived there for five years before I finally decided that I could no longer take living in such an environment. And once I reached that point, let's just say that I manipulated a certain situation to my favour, and it ultimately helped me to get out of there. From that point, I was legally adopted by a muggle couple - which is where I got the last name Granger from. I lived with those muggles for another five years before I received my Hogwarts letter, informing me of my status as a witch, and now I'm here."

"Morgana, that's not what I meant," he said as he turned his back towards the desk and began to lean against it. "Those  _muggles,_ " he snarled before taking a deep breath to calm himself, "What did they do to you?"

"Nothing that I couldn't handle on my own," she said, rubbing her hands over her knees as she remembered the many prayer sessions she had been forced to endure, "Besides, it's not like it matters, they're all dead now."

Professor Quirrell's eyebrows went up at this, "All of them?" he asked, seeming somewhat proud of her as he did so.

"Yes," she said simply before continuing, "Each and every single one of those abominations got exactly what was coming to them."

"How, if you don't mind me asking," he said as a smile spread across his face, "Don't be shy either, my lovely daughter, I want all the sordid details."

"Well after I secured my adoption, I waited till just the right time to initiate my attack," she said, remembering the day clearly, as her mind went back to the exact moment she snuffed out Sister Eunice. "I slipped into the mind of the nun I loathed the most and told her to follow me into the chapel -

"Wait, you were able to  _slip_  into her mind?" he asked and she nodded her head in response. "How old were you when this happened?"

"I was almost seven years old then," she told him and smirked as she watched his eyebrows shoot up into his turban. "Yes. I know," she sighed, "Seven  _is_  a bit young for murder, but the bint most definitely had it coming with the way she treated me during my stay at the orphanage." Hermione growled out before releasing another sigh and shaking her head as if to clear it.

"But back to the story," she said somewhat dramatically before continuing. "I made her follow me into the chapel room of the orphanage and kneel before the crucifix. It was the very same crucifix she would always make me pray in front of when she wanted to try and  _exorcise_  the demons out of me. And once I had her down on her knees, I began to taunt her a bit, asking her whether or not she wished the tables were turned and that she was the one about to kill me instead of the other way around.

"She was well and truly terrified once she heard that." Hermione said before a sudden burst of laughter left her mouth, "She was so scared, that she wet herself for god's sake. It was truly a sight to behold. I kept taunting her, even after I pulled out the knife I used to kill her - circling around her a few times like a lion with a gazelle. And once I grew bored with that, I stepped behind her and slit her throat."

"And how did you feel when you did that?" he asked, genuine curiosity on his face as he spoke.

"I felt rather indifferent about her actual death, but I did enjoy being the one to make it happen, as well as being the one man audience to her pitiful demise," she told him, remembering how she had watched the blood flow in thick red streams from her neck.

"That's my little girl," he said proudly while reaching his arm out to beckon her over and wrapping her in a one-armed embrace.

Hermione snuggled into his side, insouciant to the garlicky smell that was emanating from his person.

"You're so much like your mother, you know?" he told her as he held her to him, "She was also quite a fan of knives... Well not really knives per se, but she was definitely handy with a slicing hex or two."

"Really?" she asked, even though Fídi had already shared that information with her over the Summer, she wanted to hear it from her father.

"Yes, but I'm afraid that's a story for another time," he said before pulling away to look down at her, "I have a far more pressing matter to discuss with you," he told her, and she could see that his face had shifted once more, and now he was far more serious than he was just a moment ago. "In your memories, I saw that you had multiple encounters with your mother's familiar. Can you tell me where these meetings were held?"

"At the London Zoo, in the reptile house," she told him, confused before a thought struck her, "You can free him, can't you?" she asked, looking at him excitedly as she spoke, "He told me to befriend that poncy Malfoy boy, in order to gain access to his father and have him go to the zoo to set Fídi free. He told me that once he's free, he will be able to find my mother."

His eyes lit up at her at those words, and she could tell that he was pleased with this information, "So he  _can_  feel her then?" Professor Quirrell asked her, visibly anxious to hear her answer.

Hermione nodded her head in response. "I asked him if you both had died, and whether that was the reason why I was left at the orphanage. That was when he told me that he was certain the two of you were alive, more so my mother than you, but that was because he told me he would've been able to sense her death if it had happened - though I don't exactly know what he meant by that" she told him before making eye contact with him, "Was he telling the truth about that?"

"Yes -

"But how?" she stressed to her father, "He wouldn't tell me how, but I desperately want to know." she told him, holding his gaze as she spoke, "It just seems highly improbable, because none of the texts I've read on familiars this summer could verify what he told me about that. But he was right about you still being alive however, so I know there must be some truth to his words in regard to my mother. So can  _you_  tell me how he is able to sense her?" Hermione rushed out, cutting her father off as she did so and noting how his expression shifted in response - it was a look that if she hadn't been paying attention, she surely would've missed it, but luckily for her, her naturally observant nature didn't allow for her to miss anything.

" _That_ , Morgana, is something I can't tell you right now." He told her, all hints of humour and amusement were gone from his features.

"But -

"No 'buts' my little princess," he admonished her, tapping the tip of her nose with his index finger as he did so. "Your occlumency is good for someone that hasn't been formally trained and had only a couple of months to instruct themselves, but not good enough to keep out a skilled legilimens like the Headmaster."

At her crestfallen look, he began to speak once more, "Don't worry princess." he told her, "I will personally teach you how to occlude your mind, starting exactly two weeks from today. Any time sooner than that and your visits with me will come off as somewhat strange and suspicious."

"Okay," she nodded her head in response, "But how will I explain my visits to my housemates?"

"Just tell them you're looking to get extra credit from me, in this course. And that should explain why you're spending your Monday afternoons with me, as well as spending some of your other free time researching and learning the Dark Arts."

Her eyes immediately lit up at the prospect of learning the Dark Arts, and her father chuckled at the unmistakable excitement displayed on her face.

"What exactly will I be learning in the Dark Arts?" she asked him, smiling ear to ear like the Cheshire cat at the knowledge she would be learning Dark Magic from her father - a man that she had been told was the darkest wizard of all time.

But as soon as the thought passed through her mind, it triggered a memory of an old newspaper she had read over the course of that past summer.

_Lord Voldemort, The Darkest Wizard of an Age:_

_Lord Voldemort came to power in England during the early 1970s._ _It is currently unknown where exactly the dark wizard hails from, but it has been documented that he was the prime instigator of the Wizarding war that took place in England during that time. It was a fight he instigated with the support of many of the prominent Pureblood houses, all in the name of Blood Superiority._

She took another look at the man then, and everything began coming together for her at that moment. "Wait.. are you, Lord Voldemort?" she asked, fairly certain that  _this_  was the exact reason why Fídi had described him to her in such a way.

If he was surprised by her sudden question, he held it well because his face gave nothing away.

"Yes," he said simply, watching her face for a reaction.

She smiled beautifully at him then, "Well isn't  _that_  is just marvellous," she told him honestly, thinking about her idiot housemates. "Though I am fully aware that such information needs to remain a secret, lest that old fool Dumbledore discover it and attempt to seize you for arrest. Though I can't help but wonder why you look like how you do. From what I read about you, you were renowned by many for your deceptively good looks and charm, almost as much as you were for your evil deeds. So I can't help but wonder why you look so - and I apologise now if this comes off as rude - but below average..."

"It's all apart of a bigger plan, one I won't be able to discuss with you for the same reason that I gave you earlier. Your mind is not yet ready for the secrets you wish to know. But don't worry my little Princess, we'll have that taken care of rather quickly," he said, with a small smile on his face. "Because something tells me you're a fast learner."

She nodded her head and began to ask him another question, before being cut off by the man.

"That's enough for now, Morgana." he told her as he pulled her in for another crushingly tight hug, "You best be off before your housemates start wondering where you are."

She felt somewhat put out by his words, but couldn't deny the truth of them. If she stayed away much longer, one of those nosy housemates of hers - more than likely Malfoy - would wonder where she had been all this time. So with that in mind, Hermione turned and walked back to the desk where she had left her school bag.

"Before you go," he said, just as she began hoisting the bag onto her shoulder to make her departure, "Take this, it should help you with the other little issue I saw when looking through your memories." he continued, with a knowing look in his eye as he walked around his desk and hissed out another spell in parseltongue - one which apparently allowed him to open one of the desk's drawers.

He crossed the room in quick long strides and slid the book into her waiting hand. Once in her hand, Hermione looked down to take a peek at the title of the book, before looking back up at Professor Quirrell - an almost feral smile on her face as she did so. "Thank you, daddy," she told him, tucking the book deep into her bag for safekeeping, before giving him one final nod and exiting his class.

Hermione walked up the empty corridor with a newfound skip in her step as she rubbed her hand over the spot in her bag where the  _Livre de l' Revanche_ was sitting snuggly among the rest of her books.

She had never been more grateful for the small bit of French she had taught herself years ago. It was due to that knowledge that she was completely aware of what book her father had just given her, and she certainly planned to make great use of it. Starting with a certain pug-nosed cunt that shared a room with her.

* * *

The rest of the day seemed to fly by as Hermione's mind was filled with thoughts of her father and the book he had laid in her possession before letting her leave his classroom. Of course, Hermione had to deal with questioning looks from both Harry and Malfoy, as to what Professor Quirrell had wanted from her after class. She explained it away easily enough, telling them that he wanted to see her in order to discuss with her the answers she had provided on the five-question assessment he had given them towards the middle of their lesson.

Harry had believed her almost as soon as the words left her mouth, but Malfoy on the other hand simply just looked at her with one pale eyebrow lifted, as if he didn't quite believe her. But even if he did think she was lying to them, he certainly kept his mouth shut on the subject.

So after going to dinner and rushing back to her dormitory, Hermione jumped into her bed and drew her recently mended bed curtains closed. She waited until each and every one of her roommates had gone to bed, before pulling out the book her father had given her and whispering a Lumos charm to dimly light the tip of her wand. She opened the book to the very first page and began to read - her mind hungry for the knowledge that was laid out before her. Hermione memorised each spell in the book - deciding to wait to work on her wand movements, in favour of getting through the book faster.

After a couple of hours, Hermione had completely memorized the book of spells and started narrowing down her options on just which one she would use...

* * *

The following morning Hermione made sure she was the first of her roommates to rise, no matter how late she ended up going to bed. She simply wasn't in the mood for her roommate's shenanigans. She washed and dressed in the bathroom quickly before heading out into the bedroom to grab her books for class that day. They only had two lessons that day; Charms and History of Magic, two subjects she was greatly looking forward to learning. She hurried down the stairs to wait for Harry in the common room and was pleasantly surprised to find that he was already there, waiting for her.

Just like the morning prior, stares and whispers followed them all the way to the Great Hall. Where they were again joined by Malfoy and company before they all headed off to their Charms lesson - Hermione and Harry making sure to stick closely with their housemates, lest they get caught in the out-of-bounds corridor again.

Once at the Charms classroom, they walked into the class and took two seats up in the front of the class.

A moment or two passed before a door at the back of the class opened up and a tiny little wizard waddled out into the room and made his way to go stand on a pile of books that had been strategically placed in the front of his desk. He pulled out a scroll of parchment and began to read off the names for a roll call. When he got to Harry's name he let out an excited sounding squeak just before he toppled straight off the stack of books and out of sight.

After climbing back up the stack, he dusted himself off and straightened up his robes before pulling out his wand and giving it a wave. As he did so, the blackboard to his right became filled with the subject for that day's lesson.

"Students, please take out your quills and some parchment so you can take some notes." he said, pausing to wait for everyone to take out their materials before continuing, "In today's class, we're going to be going over the basics." he said, pointing to the blackboard with his wand as he spoke, "In the lesson for today, I'll be going over how charms differ from transfiguring spells in the following ways. The first of which is; a charm can add certain properties to objects or creatures, whereas transfiguring spells can change it into something completely different."

Hermione wrote down each word as it left his mouth, treating it all as if it were the gospel and she was the only scribe left to record it.

"There are many different types of charms that you will learn over the course of this year. Starting with the lesser charms and working our way up as you continue to move up in years here at Hogwarts. The lesser charms are quite easy and are not very difficult to break. Many of the ones that you will learn here as a young witch or wizard will wear off in a matter of days or even hours.

"I will also teach you why some charms won't be effective on large creatures like giants, dragons, and trolls, all of which whose hides have the innate magical ability to resist, recover from and protect oneself from the main effects of a spell. This means that they are able to repel all but the more powerful spells.

"You will also be learning what dark charms are as the year continues to progress - these types of charms are known as jinxes, hexes and curses. All of which your first-year textbook won't cover, as this edition of  _The Standard Book of Spells_  does not deal with such charms.

"We'll also be touching on how to properly cast a charm in this class as a lapse in concentration while performing a charm can often result in painful side effects – remember Wizard Baruffio, who said ' _s_ ' instead of ' _f_ ' and found himself lying on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Charms class passed by rather quickly, and by the end of it, Hermione felt like a court stenographer. She had transcribed the entirety of the lesson into shorthand notes when she went to pack her belongings she saw that Harry had barely even written on his parchment. Hermione couldn't help but shake her head as she made to stand and waited for Harry so they could walk to their next class - History of Magic.

She hoped that this class would at least be more hands-on than the Charms lesson had been. While informative, the Charms lesson had been woefully lacking in terms of actual  _spellcasting_ \- which is what she had been looking forward to the most. Hermione looked over at Harry and could see that he looked to be deep in thought about something, she was going to ask what was on his mind, until she recalled the letter he had shown her earlier.

"Thinking about the visit with Hagrid?" Hermione asked, and watched his face for a reaction. She was rewarded for her vigilance when she saw his cheeks flare up.

"Yeah," he mumbled before looking down at his shoes while they walked. "It's just, I've been thinking about Hagrid and how nice he was when he came to come to see me over the Summer."

"Yeah," she said, wondering where he was going with this. "What about it?"

"Well what if.. what if he's upset with me for being in Slytherin and that's why he wants me to come down there?" he asked her worriedly.

"And what do you imagine he'd do to you Harry?" she said, her mouth curving into a slight smile as she tried to hold back her laughter, "I hardly think he's going to strangle you for being sorted into Slytherin. No. I doubt you have to worry about anything like that. More than likely he wants you to come down there because he has more of that mysterious agenda to push on you."

"Then there's that!" he exclaimed in a loud sounding whisper. "It makes me wonder if he was just faking all of it for the sake of pushing some kind of scheme on me?"

"I don't know Harry," Hermione told him honestly, "I guess we'll find out on Friday... Maybe we should invite Draco." she suggested quickly, knowing that she could use the situation to help her in further establishing a relationship with the blond boy in order to get to his father. After all, who knew whether or not she would need to have him on retainer to free her mother's familiar in the off chance that her father was unable to do so first.

"Yeah, let's do that." Harry agreed, "The more people the better, that way you guys can help me see what's going on with him."

"Will do Harry," she said with a slight smirk as they walked into the History of Magic class.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to tell you all this but there will be no chapter next week. I found out recently that my father has had a heart attack and I will be traveling to go see him and spend time with him as he begins to recover from this. I don't know how long I will be visiting with him, but I do hope you all understand. 
> 
> Please R&R.

As Friday morning came round and they were headed to double potions, Hermione had a hard time not looking at Harry and examining every inch of him for what had to be the hundredth time this week. As she looked at the boy she couldn't help but to continue thinking about everything she had learned earlier in the week on Monday.

 _Harry Potter, the boy who lived_.

 _The boy that vanquished he who must not be named_.

 _Was perhaps the very same reason why she had to grow up in an orphanage filled with the religious zealots that punished her, simply for being who she was_.

 _Harry Potter_... the very same Harry Potter that currently saved her from being ostracised or abused within their house - though his protection of her didn't seem to extend to her dormitory as she noted that the Parkinson chit appeared to have a desire to persist in her obnoxious behaviour. And Hermione had to admit that she was having a hard time accepting that this abused malnourished looking boy, that seemed to have a bit of a mild saviour complex when it came to her, had supposedly defeated her father. It was different when she thought of Voldemort as just some obscure dark figure, that had supposedly been undone by an infant. But now that she knew that dark wizard was her father, it made her look at the boy in a completely different light.

What if he _had_ been the cause of her father's disappearance? What if he was the reason why she had to grow up without at least one of her parents? Hermione knew it was irrational, blaming an infant for the destruction of her father, but still, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was supposed to hate him now. So she had a hard time rationalising her "relationship" with the dark-haired boy when she looked at things from this new perspective. Hermione wondered what her father thought of the fact that she had seemed to befriend the boy who had vanquished him. She wondered if there was a way for her to use this newfound friendship with Harry to her father's favour. Not only that, but she still needed Harry to get closer to the Malfoy boy as he still hadn't even tried to approach her like she suggested he do back when they were on the Hogwarts Express headed here.

"Take out your cauldrons and notes from earlier in the week," Professor Snape said as he swept into the classroom - his robes billowing behind him as he did so. "Today we will be brewing the boil-curing potion we discussed this past Monday and Wednesday."

She could hear everyone in the class as they moved to gather their cauldrons and noted from the past week. Professor Snape seemed to have finally moved his focus from Harry and onto the Gryffindors as their Potions lessons continued on. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Sweeping around the room in his long black cloak, and watching them as they weighed their dried nettles and crushed their individual snake fangs, scrutinizing almost everyone with an icy glare all except for herself and the Malfoy boy, whom he had paired her with.

Snape walked up to their desk and looked down into the cauldron before telling everyone in the class to come and look at the perfect way that she and Malfoy had managed to stew their horned slugs when suddenly an acidic green looking cloud of smoke began flowing across the room and it was accompanied by a loud hissing noise that seemed to fill the entire dungeon.

Somehow the boy that had lost his toad, Longbottom, had somehow managed to melt his partner's cauldron into a warped blob of metal, and their potion was seeping down the table and across the stone floor. It began burning holes in people's shoes as they tried jumping onto their seats to escape the acidic potion. Within mere seconds, the entire class was standing on their stools while Longbottom, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms, legs, and torso.

"Idiot boy!" yelled Snape as he cleared the spilt potion away with a simple wave of his wand. "So I take it you decided to deviate from the given instructions and add the porcupine quills to your potion _before_ taking your cauldron off the fire?"

The Longbottom boy whimpered in response as boils randomly started to pop up all over his face and hands.

"You, go take your dunderheaded housemate up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at one of the Gryffindors before rounding on Weasley and his partner, who both had been working right next to Longbottom.

"Weasley!" he bellowed as he looked down at the red-headed boy, "So you thought he'd make you look better if you neglected to tell him not to add the quills, did you? You've just lost yet another point for Gryffindor. That's two in one week."

She could see the boy open his mouth to argue, but before he could his partner shot him a warning look.

Hermione smirked in response, happy to see her Head of House putting the Gryffindors down in their place.

The rest of the class finished up without another incident, and Snape heralded their potion as the best in their class, and he informed the class that their potion was the only one that would be bottled and sent down to the infirmary for use.

Once class was finally concluded, she and Harry began to make their way from the classroom and upstairs. As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, she could see the anxiety on Harry's face and remembered the visit they were supposed to make to the groundskeeper today.

"Don't look so worried," Hermione told him, "Draco and I will be coming with you to meet Hagrid."

* * *

Once the time in the common room read that it was five minutes till eleven thirty, she and Harry went to collect Malfoy and head on down to Hagrid's home - with Malfoy grimacing in disgust the closer they got to the run down looking structure. Hagrid's home was nothing more than a small wooden house that sat on the edge of Hogwart's property near the forbidden forest. As they got closer to his home she could spot a crossbow and a pair of muddy overshoes sitting just outside his front door.

She stood back with Malfoy as Harry walked up to the door and knocked, and from where she stood, she could hear a frantic sounding scraping noise coming from the inside accompanied by several loud barks. Hermione cringed at the sound when she heard it. She absolutely loathed dogs, they were just so messy and needy. But then Hagrid's loud booming voice rang out, saying,

"Get back, Fang - back." she heard Hagrid say just before pulling the door open just a crack and immediately training his eyes on Harry. He smiled the same big smile that he had given Harry back at Hogsmeade station when they disembarked the train.

"Just a second Harry," he said before turning his head behind the door and saying. "Back, Fang, back!"

Malfoy shuffled around to stand behind her as the giant man opened the door and beckoned them inside and she had to fight the urge to laugh at his cowardice. In the centre of the room stood Hagrid, struggling to keep his hold on the leather collar of an enormous black dog.

The entirety of the hut consisted of just one room, and Hermione had to wonder where the man slept at night - it was just that cluttered. There were dead pheasants and a few other animal carcasses hanging from his ceiling, a tea kettle boiling on the open fire in his hearth, and in the furthest corner of the room, she spotted a massive bed with a ratty old quilt laying on top of it. I guess that answers my question of where he sleeps at night, Hermione thought as she continued surveying the room.

Hagrid's warm gaze seemed to freeze over once he realized that Harry had come with two of his housemates and Hermione found that to be particularly interesting.

He cleared his throat before releasing his hold on the dog in his arms, who bounded straight up to Malfoy and began slobbering all over his face and hair. "Well don't just stand around," he said, as he moved to start taking his things off of the worn-in sofa near the fireplace. "Make yerselves at home," he continued as he picked up the last knick-knack from the couch and dusted the seats off a few times.

"This is Hermione," Harry told Hagrid, gesturing his hand in her direction before motioning towards Malfoy, "And this is -

"Oh, I know who he is," Hagrid said in a somewhat frosty tone. "I'd have to be blind to not notice that Malfoy blond hair," he said as he turned to get his kettle from the fire. He poured the boiling hot water into an enormous teapot and placed a plate of badly burnt biscuits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Never thought I'd see the day when a Potter got on with a Malfoy?" said Hagrid, glancing back and forth from Harry to Malfoy. "I spent half me life chasin' yer dad and his friends around these grounds, y'know? They were always up to something. And I won't lie, I honestly thought I'd be doing the same for you and yer friends."

She watched Harry carefully as the man spoke, he had this stupid grin on his face and was politely picking at the biscuits that were so similar to rock cakes in appearance. They were shapeless, crispy looking lumps the colour of charcoal, and she bit her lip to keep herself from laughing as she watched Harry flinch once he tried to bite the biscuit. She wanted to laugh even harder when she saw Harry cringe as he pretended to be enjoying them.

She and Malfoy sat there completely silent, with the latter inspecting his fingernails and looking bored out of his mind. Hermione looked over at Malfoy and could see that his patience was thinning and she stared at him intently to try and draw his attention. After a moment or two, Malfoy looked in her direction and she gave him a pointed look. A look he seemed to understand immediately. He nodded his head and turned to watch Harry with the giant man, listening to his every word as he spoke freely with the dark-haired boy. She had wanted him to be here specifically so that they could both hear first-hand just what type of propaganda the man had been pushing on Harry.

As Hagrid continued to drone on and on about Harry's parents and their time in school, making it a point to keep bringing up the fact that they were in Gryffindor. He kept going until finally, he picked up on the exasperation that both she and Malfoy were feeling, and asked Harry about his first week of lessons.

Harry immediately jumped onto the topic excitedly, telling Hagrid every single detail of his first week at Hogwarts. He told him everything, even the minor insignificant details, and the large man ate them up eagerly. As he spoke to the man, Hagrid's dog, Fang, came over to rest his head on Harry's kneecap, effectively drenching his robes in dog drool.

As Harry went into the story of Filch catching he and Hermione in the corridor that led to the out-of-bounds area of the third floor, she caught Hagrid's eyes as they cut over to her for a moment and then back to Harry again. _What was that about?_ Hermione wondered as she continued watching him.

As Harry kept talking to Hagrid, Hermione began to look around the room once more until something on the side table caught her eye. On the side table to the left of her, she could see a copy of the newspaper, The Daily Prophet, sitting directly under her mug of tea. The headline of it caught her eye quickly as soon as she noticed it.

**THE LATEST ON THE GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN**

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

She remembered hearing a few of her housemates discussing the Gringotts break-in while sitting around the fire down in their common room over the course of this past week. Harry seemed to have noticed where her attention was before he looked at the side table for himself.

"Hagrid!" said Harry suddenly as he tore his eyes away from the paper, "the Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday, didn't it? It could've been happening while we were there!"

Hermione fought to control her mask as she watched Hagrid refuse to meet Harry's eyes. In fact, he ignored what Harry had said altogether, and instead of responding he made a grunting noise before standing from his seat. He moved around the hut as if he were looking for something before pulling another tray of his burnt biscuits and walking it over to their couch they were sitting on and offered them to Harry.

"Biscuit?" he asked and instead of taking any more biscuits, Harry simply shook his head and returned his attention to the paper on the side table.

"Well you kids best be heading on back to the castle before lunch starts," said Hagrid as he began moving his refreshments - if you could even call them that - from the coffee table.

Hermione's mind, however, kept flitting back to the break-in at Gringotts and Hagrid's reaction to Harry's comment.

As Hermione, Harry and Malfoy began making their way back to the castle for lunch Hermione turned to ask him what he had been trying to say back in Hagrid's hut about the break-in.

Harry looked around a few times as if checking to see if there was anyone around to eavesdrop. The move aroused Hermione's curiosity and made her want to know even more, what it was that he knew. Once he was satisfied that there was no one around to overhear him, he leaned in closer to Hermione and Malfoy before whispering, "Well, the vault that was broken into that day, had been emptied earlier in the day by Hagrid." he said before pulling back from the both of them.

"He _emptied_ it?" Hermione asked, wondering what could've possibly been in the vault that Hagrid could've possibly _cleared_ it of its contents.

Harry nodded his head in response, "All he took out was a tiny little package." he told her, "But it must've been something very important if that same vault was broken into almost immediately after he had emptied it."

Hermione said nothing more as her mind processed everything she had heard.

* * *

After lunch came the part of the day that Hermione was dreading completely...

Their flying lesson, and once three-thirty that afternoon came round, Hermione, Harry, and the rest of the first year Slytherins began to make their way down to the courtyard for their first flying lesson. She could hear Malfoy up ahead as he made a comment on how the weather was perfect for flying, and she couldn't help but grit her teeth at the comment. No matter how perfect the weather seemed to him, it would never be perfect for flying in her opinion. Though she tried not to focus on that as they continued to walk and could see that beside her, Harry was just as equally as nervous as she was about this lesson. They came to a stop once they reached a flat lawn that was located on the opposite side of the grounds, parallel to the forbidden forest, whose ominous looking trees were swaying darkly in the distance. There were twenty broomsticks lying in neatly on the ground.

As they waited for their instructor to show up, they could see the Gryffindor first years headed in their direction, with an older looking woman walking just behind them. Hermione assumed the woman was their instructor and was proven right when a moment later she introduced herself as such.

Madam Hooch, their teacher told each of them to pick a broom and prepare to get started.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she yelled at them, when a few of them hesitated. "Everyone go on and pick a broomstick to stand beside. Come on, hurry up now."

Hermione looked down at the broom laying beside her feet. It was a hideous old looking thing, with twigs sticking out at odd angles and the handle looked as if termites had been snacking on it. Was she seriously expected to fly this thing? This had to be a joke.

This broom was a death trap if she had ever seen one.

"Alright students, place your right hands over your brooms, and say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch called as she walked back and forth in front of the students.

She took a deep breath before sticking her hand over the broom and said, "Up." the broom rolled back and forth in the grass and did nothing else.

Beside her, she could see Harry's broom shoot up from its place on the grass in into his hand.

"UP!" she shouted again, this time with more determination, and the broom sprung up from its place in the grass and up into her hand.

After everyone had their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch began to go around and show them how to mount their brooms without falling off the end, before showing them how to properly grip their brooms.

"Alright students, now when I blow my whistle, I want you all to kick off from the ground, and do it hard," said Madam Hooch. "But please remember to keep your brooms steady, and only come up a few feet from the ground, then go straight back down by leaning forward slightly. Alright now on my whistle - three - two-"

But before her lips could even touch the whistle, the newly healed Longbottom had pushed off hard from the ground and shot up into the air.

"Oh my - you get back here boy!" she shouted at him, but instead of coming back down Longbottom continued going up higher and higher, reaching twelve feet, and then twenty.

He just continued rising up further in the air until suddenly he wasn't. Slipping sideways from the broom, he came plummeting down to the ground. Hermione couldn't help but cringe when he landed on the ground with a loud resounding crack and she could hear him moaning in pain.

Madam Hooch, who had gone pale at the sight of the boy falling, ran over to inspect him, he flinched and moaned as she looked over his injuries before she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Oh its nothing major, just a broken wrist," she said, visibly relieved, before moving to help him get up, "Come on now, boy - you're all right, up you get. This is nothing that a little skelegrow won't be able to fix."

She turned to the rest of the class and spoke to them in a loud no-nonsense tone.

"I'm going take this boy to the hospital wing, and none of you better move a single muscle while I'm gone! Do you hear me? You will all leave those brooms exactly where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch', do you understand me?" she asked before turning back to the Longbottom boy, "Come on, dear."

As soon as they were they out of earshot Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins burst out into laughter - all of them except her and Harry.

"Did you see his face?" Malfoy laughed before a laughing Theo chimed in.

"Did I _see_ it? How could anyone _not_ see it? I wouldn't be surprised if he shit himself."

She couldn't help the laughter that escaped her at that comment, but before another one of her housemates could say anything more one of the Gryffindor girls stepped forward.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped the Patil twin.

"Oh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Parkinson as she chimed in. "Never thought anybody would like fat, ugly little crybabies, Patil. But I suppose even the most desperate of people need love too huh?"

"Look!" Malfoy said suddenly before darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "Isn't this a Remembrall?"

And it _was_ a Remembrall, she noted as she looked at it. She had heard a few things about it since she had been introduced to the magical world, but she had never seen one in person. As Malfoy held it up in the sky, she could see how beautiful it was glittering in the sunlight as Malfoy continued to hold it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Ron as he stepped up to Malfoy causing everyone to stop talking.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?" he said before looking at Harry, who paled slightly at the sudden attention. "What do you think Harry?"

Swallowing, Harry stepped forward and nodded his head. "Yeah Malfoy," he said before cutting his eyes at Ron and saying, "Maybe the Whomping Willow could use a friend." with a smirk on his face.

"Oh shut up, Potter!" Weasley snarled as he glared at Harry before turning his sights back on Malfoy. "Give it here!" he yelled, but Malfoy had already leapt onto his broomstick and began taking off into the sky.

The only thing Hermione been able to think then was that Malfoy certainly hadn't been lying when he said he could fly well. He flew up into the air at lightning speed, hovering near the branches of an oak tree before calling out to Harry, "Hey Harry, do you think I could reach the Whomping Willow from here?"

"Give it a toss and let's find out," said Crabbe as he stepped forward, "Let's see just how far it'll go."

And with that, he pulled his arm back and threw the glass ball as hard as he could and they all watched as it disappeared over the treeline and into the forest.

"MISTER MALFOY, GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!" shouted the loud voice of the deputy headmistress.

Malfoy came back down to the ground slowly, fear evident on his face as he stared at the angry eyes of Professor McGonagall.

"Never - in all my years at Hogwarts-" she muttered as she closed the distance between herself and the young blond boy, her glasses flashing furiously as she did so, " - how dare you - you could have broken your neck -"

"Professor," whined Ronald Weasley, "He also threw Neville's Rememebrall into the forest," he told her before looking over at Malfoy and smirking in his direction.

"Is that right, Mr Weasley?" she asked him with a lifted brow, "Mr Malfoy, follow me, _now_."

* * *

As they were sitting at their dining table later that evening, with everyone digging into their food with abandon except Hermione, Malfoy finally returned from the Headmaster's office.

"Did you get in trouble?" asked Theo once Malfoy took the only empty seat, which happened to be just beside her.

He scoffed before reaching out for one of the serving tools and picking up a piece of chicken to put on his plate. "Of course I didn't. My father came out and shut everything down immediately," he said with a smirk before adding a bit of roasted potatoes on his plate.

Theo chuckled in response before returning to his food, just as a shadow fell over their section of the table. Hermione looked up, and couldn't help groaning when she saw who was standing there. It was the young Weasley boy, and he was being flanked on both sides by two boys. One of them was black with dark eyes and dark hair, and the other was a tanned looking boy with sandy blond hair.

"Having your last meal, Malfoy, before daddy comes to get you?" Weasley asked as he looked down at Malfoy with a malicious looking smirk on his face.

"Well unfortunately for you Weaselby, I'm not going anywhere," said Malfoy coolly. "Unlike you, _my_ father is a member of the board. Did you really think that old hag of yours would be able to kick me out of this school?" he asked before the Weasley boy began to flush tomato red, causing Malfoy to double over with a loud resounding laugh. "Oh Merlin," he said between bursts of laughter, "You really thought that she would be able to kick me out of Hogwarts. Without my family's donations to this school, you and your little Gryffindor friends would be eating rock sandwiches for meals and washing them down with rainwater. But by the looks of you and your family, that's probably already something you're used to."

"Shut your mouth Malfoy," Weasley gritted out as he glared at Malfoy.

"Why don't you _make_ me shut my mouth," he told the red-haired boy as he sat back in his seat and smirked at him.

"I'll take you on anytime Malfoy," said Weasley. "Even tonight, if that's what you want," he said angrily.

"And what are you going to do Weasley?" Malfoy laughed, "Challenge me to a Wizard's duel?"

"Yeah," Weasley said before continuing, "Wizard's duel. Tonight. And it can even be wands only if that make's it easier for you."

Malfoy laughed a deep resounding laugh that seemed to come from his core, before asking the redhead who his second would be.

"I'm his second," said the boy with the sandy blond hair in his thick Irish brogue. "Who's yours?"

Malfoy looked around the table before his eyes settled on her, and he looked back at Weasley before saying with a smirk, "Granger's my second."

Hermione's eyes almost bulged out of her head at his words and she could hear Pansy's sharp intake of breath from where she sat eavesdropping a few seats down.

"Granger?" the redhead scoffed before laughing, "But she's a girl."

"She might be a girl, but she's still a girl that's already kicked your arse," Malfoy said, laughing at how quickly his words seemed to shut the other boy up.

"Alright then, Granger it is," he grit out. "The duel is happening tonight at Midnight, alright?"

"Okay," Malfoy said with a shrug before saying, "We'll meet you in the trophy room then; that room is always unlocked."

Weasley nodded in response before nudging his companions and walking away.

When Weasley had finally gone, Malfoy turned to her and apologized.

"I'm sorry for putting you in this, but after what I witnessed back on the train, I knew I had to pick you as my second."

She looked up at the high table and saw her father watching her before she turned back to Malfoy, "It's okay," she told him, "Somehow I think it will hurt him, even more, to be beaten by a girl, again."

* * *

Once everyone in her room had gone to bed, Hermione slipped her wand from beneath her pillow before whispering a silent _Lumos_ and moving to get the book her father had given her. She flipped to the page she had bookmarked and held her wand over the parchment before smiling wickedly.

This was certain to get the ball rolling on the revenge she had been planning for this room full of bitches. She pulled back her bedcurtains and lightly stepped down onto the cool stone of her dormitory floor. Hermione walked slowly over to the bed furthest from her own and leisurely pulled back the curtain to Pansy Parkinson's bed and aimed her wand directly at the girl's head before whispering, " _Murmure dans l'esprit_."

The girl flipped over in her sleep and Hermione swiftly pulled her bedcurtain closed before turning and repeating the same action on each of her other roommates before slipping back into her own bed. The smile on her face was absolutely feral in nature as she imagined just how the spell would affect each of them. The spell was meant to mess with the mind of the person it was cast on. Making them hear voices in their heads at odd times, or whenever they were alone. Eventually causing the person to go mad unless they can get the caster to willingly cast the counter curse to reverse the effects of the spell before they got to the point of no return. She smiled, hoping that it would take effect soon, as she rolled over in her bed and snuggled into her bed to wait for the time she would need to head downstairs and meet Malfoy for their midnight duel with the Gryffindors.

She tried to clear her mind and focus on their upcoming duel but try as she might, she couldn't get her brain to stop firing off thoughts as she waited. Her mind going back to what Harry had told her when they had been walking back to the castle from Hagrid's hut. Gringotts had been broken into, and the vault that had been broken into had been the same one Hagrid had emptied the day he took Harry to Diagon Alley. If that hadn't been strange enough already, Harry told her that it had apparently happened the same day he visited.

Just breaking into Gringotts alone, was something that was supposed to be virtually impossible, and yet somehow someone had still managed to pull it off. And not only that, but they hadn't been caught or identified either, which was equally just as unthinkable as one breaking-in in the first place. Hermione wondered idly if her father had something to do with it, and a thought clicked.

She sprung up from her spot on her bed, her mind beginning to whir to life as it connected some of the missing pieces to this puzzle together.

She thought back to the very first time she had seen Professor Quirrell... her father... oh bloody hell, she didn't know what to call the man. The day she had seen him, he could've easily approached her, but he hadn't. He simply just sat there, almost as if he were waiting for someone or something to happen. The simple fact that he hadn't come and at least tried to figure out who she was, was suspicious in itself given the way he acted on Monday.

And then Harry... at the feast, he had already known who Professor Quirrell was, long before they ever had a lesson even though Hagrid had been the one to go and pick him up. Could they have met when Harry had been crossing over into Diagon Alley with Hagrid? Was that what he was waiting for? For Harry Potter to come and crossover into the wizarding world so that he could try and intercept whatever it was that had been in the vault... She didn't know but she certainly had a lot to think about now.

Hermione checked the time with a _tempus_ charm and got up from her bed once more. Pulling on her shoes, and the darkest cloak she owned, she tiptoed to the door and slipped quietly from the room. When she got down to the common room, Malfoy was sitting on the couch in front of the dimly lit fire. He turned his head when he heard her approaching and offered her a small smile.

"I was beginning to think you had forgotten about the duel," he said as he stood from his spot on the couch.

"I would never miss out on the chance to kick Weasley's arse," Hermione told him honestly, motioning with her hand for him to follow her to the door.

They walked along the corridors silent for a moment before he finally spoke up. "So are you ever going to tell me what's going on with you? You refused to tell me your blood status back on the train and you haven't said one word about it since."

She shrugged before looking at him, "I told you to talk to me the evening we were sorted. You didn't. Therefore, I assumed you didn't want to know."

"Well I do," he said before heaving an annoyed sigh. "Because I can see that you're trying to scheme me with something Granger. Why else would you have wanted me to come along with you and Harry to that halfbreed's filthy little hovel?"

They got to the trophy room long before Weasley and his friend, so she began walking around and looking at some of the trophies and the photos of their recipients before she came across one that made her pause.

_**Special Award for Services to the School** _

_Awarded to_

**_TOM RIDDLE_ **

Beneath the award sat the moving photo of a rather handsome looking dark-haired young man. Her father... So she was right in believing his current appearance to being below average, especially in comparison to his younger self. In the photo, he was holding his award firmly in one hand while using the other to shake the hand of an older looking man that she didn't quite recognise. He was smiling proudly at the camera before it quickly shifted into a smirk, it was a split second shift, a real blink and you'll miss it kind of change. She stepped closer to get a better look and suddenly it looped right back to the beginning all over again.

"Earth to Granger," Malfoy said from beside her. "Are you going to tell me whatever this little secret of yours is?"

Just as she was about to open her mouth to respond she heard someone speak from behind the door - and it wasn't Weasley.

"Go on my lovely, have a sniff around, they might be hiding in one of the corners."

It was the caretaker Mr Filch and he was apparently speaking to his cat, Mrs Norris. Malfoy paled before taking off in the direction of the other door on the opposite side of the room, with Hermione moving quickly behind him. They had just made it into the other corridor and shut the door when they heard the man enter the room from the other side.

"I know they have to be around here somewhere," she heard him say from inside just before she stepped away from the door.

She looked around the hall and saw that Malfoy had taken off up the hall and was standing further up the corridor. As she made her way over to him, she could see that he was fuming, the same as her.

"I can't believe that slimy little Weasel bastard tricked us," she growled. "He was never going to meet up with us - how else did Filch know someone was going to be in the trophy room, that Weasel bastard must have tipped him off."

Malfoy looked at her before shaking his head, "You're right, his brother _is_ a prefect. He probably just passed the message along to him and he told Filtch."

Hermione huffed out an angry breath but said nothing as they continued to walk, but it wasn't long before Malfoy was talking again.

"Granger.."

"If you want to know what my secrets are, you need to make a vow of secrecy with me, I want you to swear on your magic to keep my secret," she said, turning to face him and he fixed her with an icy glare.

"Do you honestly think -

"If you want to know, then you'll do it," she said before walking ahead of him. "But trust when I say that this offer will not come up again, so after tonight you're just going to have to be forced to wonder who I am until it's too late for anything else." she told him as she continued to walk, and Malfoy remained quiet as the two of them came to a halt at a door at the end of the corridor.

Hermione stuck her hand out to twist the doorknob and when it resisted the movement she heaved a sigh of annoyance. Not this bloody door again, she thought as she looked at the handle.

"Step aside, Granger," Malfoy said as he nudged her out of the way.

He twisted the knob a few times for himself, before releasing his own angry sigh. Without that snooping caretaker nosing around, this was the perfect time to see what was behind this door.

"Fuck this," she said as she pulled her wand from her sleeve, "Move over Malfoy." she told her just before pointing her wand at the knob and whispered, " _Alohomora_!"

And just like that, the lock clicked and the door swung wide open. She peered around the room before taking a step inside.

"Granger, what are you -" Malfoy began as he followed her inside.

"Shhhh," she said cutting him off as they walked further into the dark corridor.

"Granger, will you just wait for one bloody moment." Malfoy growled angrily as he grabbed her arm and yanked her back by her arm.

Hermione turned around and snatched her arm from his grasp, anger boiling from deep within her core at the audacity of the Malfoy boy, to think he could dare to touch her.

"You listen, and you listen well." she growled, "If you ever in your life touch me like that again, I promise you Malfoy, there wont be a need for a vow of secrecy because I'll let you know just exactly who I am when I'm dissecting your body limb from bloody limb."

Malfoy swallowed visibly before backing away from her. "Calm down Granger, I didn't mean it," he said as he backed away from her. And as he continued backing away from her, his eyes caught sight of something just over her shoulder that made him pale even more than his already fair complexion.

He raised his shaky hand and pointed behind her, just before screaming, "Granger, _run_!"

She turned her head just a bit and caught sight of the creature that had frightened Malfoy just behind her. She saw that there was a giant monstrous dog standing in the corridor. A dog that seemed to fill up the entirety of the space within the corridor with just its enormous size alone. It was a Cerberus, she discovered as she took in the dog's three massive heads, and snarling jaws. All three of it's heads were beginning to growl, grunt, and frantically smell the air around them.

Malfoy ran for the door and wrenched it open, with Hermione shoving him out of the way so she could make it through first.

She could hear Malfoy as he slammed the door shut and ran after her. They ran so fast that they were practically flying as they made their way back to the dungeons.

Just as they made it to the area where the false wall located Malfoy grabbed her arm again and pulled her to a halt. Hermione turned around quickly and glared at him as he lifted his hands up in a mock surrender.

"I'm sorry Granger," he whispered, his voice coming out rough as he tried to catch his breath, "I just wanted to tell you, I'll make the vow if that's what you still want to do."

Hermione simply smiled in response and extended her arm to him, "Well, let's get to it then." she said as she pulled her wand out again and motioned for him to grab her forearm.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience, my father is on the road to recovery and I greatly appreciate all of your well wishes.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter and don't forget to leave me some feedback. I love hearing what you guys think :)

Hermione walked with a newfound bounce to her step as she made her way down the stairs to the common room the next morning. As she looked around the room, she noted that Harry hadn't quite made it down the stairs just yet, so she went to have a seat on the leather couch near the fireplace to wait for him. She couldn't deny that she felt infinitely lighter and freer than ever as she thought back to the night before. Even though the duel with Weasley had admittedly been a dud, she chalked up the jubilation she was feeling to the fact that at least one person - outside of her father - knew who she was.

With a smile, she vividly recalled the shocked disbelieving look on the face of her housemate when she told him just exactly who she was.

_"Alright," Draco said as he pushed his wand back into his pocket, "I've done the vow, now tell me."_

_Hermione looked around the class before pointing her wand in the direction of the door and whispering the same spell she had heard her father say that day in his class. She assumed the spell to be a privacy charm since no one had overheard their discussion, but she wasn't entirely sure. She wasn't sure if she had even performed the spell properly because nothing felt different, though it did have the bonus of making Malfoy's eyes bulge out of his head._

_"You might want to sit down," she told him before turning and walking to the desk at the front of the class and taking a seat on it._

_He looked at her with a lifted brow before shaking his head and motioning for her to continue with his hand._

_"Tell me Malfoy," she said as she raised a finger to her mouth in a mock sign of thought, "How much do you know about Voldemort?"_

_Malfoy looked shocked by her use of the dark wizard's name, but he considered her words for a moment before finally speaking, "All I know about Vol... the Dark Lord, is that he was the greatest dark wizard of all time, and he was going to lead our world back to its former glory. But I don't know what any of that has to do with..." his voice trailed off a bit as he looked at her, his eyes growing wide at the conclusion he had mentally just arrived at._

_"You're full of shite, Granger," he hissed as his face transformed into a harsh scowl and stood up. He marched his way over to the door before speaking again, "I can't believe you really had me take a vow of secrecy for this crap."_

_Hermione kept her mouth shut as she watched him walk to the door and open the door - or at least_ try _to anyway. He twisted and turned the knob back and forth, much the same way that he had done with the door in the out-of-bounds corridor, only to yield the same result he had there. And she couldn't help but smile as she came to the happy realisation that the spell she had tried to use had actually worked._

_"Sit down, Draco," she said with a small chuckle. "I don't think we've finished our discussion quite yet."_

_Malfoy turned around slowly then, and she could see the fear peaking through his Slytherin mask._

_"Yes, I see I have your attention now," she said with a smile before nodding her head in the direction of the desk that was located just in front of the desk she was seated on top of._

_Malfoy reluctantly walked over to the desk she had indicated, moving so slow she would've thought that he had nailed his shoes to the floor after each step he took._

_"That very first day we met," she began once he was seated at the desk, "You asked me if I was a mudblood, do you remember?"_

_Malfoy cleared his throat before speaking, though his voice still came out in a breathless whisper once he spoke._

_"Yes," he said, and his pale white skin went pink once the words left his lips._

_"Good," Hermione told him, smiling as she jumped from her spot on the desk and lightly to the floor_ _. "I was worried you had forgotten."_

_She walked around him, slowly circling around his desk and trailing her hand lazily across his shoulders every once in a while as she walked around the back of his seat._

_"Now tell me Draco, how much do you know about Voldemort?" she asked him._

_"Only what I already told you," he told her, straightening his back as he did so._

_He was starting to conjure up some confidence, and Hermione found that she liked that a bit. While it would be fun to see him snivel and grovel like the fear-filled boy she assumed him to be, she liked seeing that he wasn't going to curl into himself and cower away from her._

_"So you didn't know that he had a wife then?" she asked, and at his sharp intake of breath, she continued, "Or the fact that he had a child with her?"_

_"No," he told her honestly. "I don't think anyone knew — well perhaps my grandfather knew, but I doubt anyone else has been made privy to this knowledge."_

_"That's good," she told him as she came to stand in front of his desk. "I wouldn't want my secret to stand the chance of being so easily spread by any turncoats still lingering among my father's ranks." she watched his face as she referred to Voldemort as her father, and was pleased to see how large his stormy eyes grew at her comment. "From what I discovered, many of his followers deserted him when he fell on Samhain in 1981."_

_Malfoy took a deep breath before he looked up to meet her eyes for the first time since he had been seated at the desk._

_"I knew there was something up with you that day back on the train," he told her as he went to stand. "No eleven year old would be able to control their magic like you did that day, especially without formal training."_

_"Nice observation," she told him, preening at the small compliment. "My grasp on magic has been rather instinctual, and I've been able to control mine to a certain degree for as long as I can remember. Now tell me, do you require further proof to verify my claims?"_

_He was silent for a few moments before he finally broke the silence with a heavy sigh, "That would be nice..." he told her honestly._

_Hermione smiled and pulled her wand free from her sleeve before pointing it at the top of his desk. "_ _Serpensortia," she hissed and watched as a white light shot out of the tip of her wand and transformed into a small black serpent._

_The snake quickly slithered forward and began rushing directly at Malfoy._

_"Stop," she hissed soothingly to the snake in Parseltongue, "Your mistress requests your assistance."_

_The snake halted it's movement immediately, and turned to face her. Across the table, she could see that Malfoy looked completely and totally sick with shock, and she knew without a doubt that she had him now._

_"What does my mistress require?" the snake hissed._

_"I need you to follow my instructions," she hissed in return. "Slither to the left, slither to the right, and then slither in a figure eight."_

_The snake followed her directions to a tee, his small body slithering in each direction before slithering in an almost perfect mirror image of an infinity ouroboros. When she looked back up to Malfoy she smirked upon seeing just how shocked his face was, with his jaw hanging inelegantly as he gaped at her. And she knew that if he had even the slightest of doubts in his mind of what she was trying to tell him, she had thoroughly squashed it._

_"I-its true... you're the Dark Lord's daughter," he said, his breath coming out in a whisper._

_"Yes," she told him, watching him closely as she waited for a response._

_"But I don't understand," he told her after they sat there in silence for a moment. "Why would you tell me this? It seems the kind of thing you would want to keep a secret."_

_"Nice catch Malfoy," Hermione said as she came around the desk to sit in the seat next to his. "Well let's just say you weren't wrong when you said that you knew that I wanted something from you."_

_At that, he turned his head to look at her, brow lifted in curiosity as he analysed her face._

_"What exactly did you need?" he asked her hesitantly, bringing a hand up to run through his fine blond locks._

_"Oh don't look so nervous Malfoy," Hermione said as she watched his throat bob as he swallowed. "All I need from you is to orchestrate a discrete meeting between your father and I."_

_Malfoy looked even more confused by her request than what he had when she asked him to tell her what he knew about Voldemort._

She was pulled out of her memory when she saw the boy in question coming down the stairs from the boy's dorm. He was walking down the stairs with Harry just beside him, and he seemed to be regaling him with a story. He spoke to Harry in hushed whispers enthralling the boy with no doubt another  _heavily_  embellished story of his - probably another one of his stories where he narrowly escaped the path of a plane while in flight on his broom. She watched the boy closely as he walked down the stairs with Harry and began to cross the common room in her direction. He walked with an undeniable swagger, a swagger she honestly hadn't been expecting from him, given the way he had acted with her the night before. And Hermione couldn't help but admire his ability to just blend in as if none of it had ever happened. Malfoy simply just crossed the common room, mask fully in place as he greeted a few of his friends that had already come down to head off to breakfast. She watched him as he jumped into their conversations, joking and laughing as if he weren't still put on edge by the revelation she had made yesterday evening.

But that didn't mean she wasn't watching him like a hawk, even when he crossed the room with Harry in tow, she kept her eyes trained on the blond haired boy.

"Is it true that you two saw a great big three-headed dog behind that locked door in the third-floor corridor?" Harry asked her as he flopped down into the empty seat beside her on the couch.

Ahh, so that's what Malfoy was telling Harry about, she thought as she looked at Malfoy - a silent question in her eyes as she did so. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod of his head, and she knew her secret was still safe. Oath or no oath, she didn't want to chance it, but at his nod, she looked at Harry and gave him a nod of her own.

Harry gaped at her and she supposed that he probably didn't believe Malfoy when he had told him of their late night adventure.

"But that's dangerous!" Harry gasped in response, "Why the bloody hell would the Headmaster -

" _Shhhh_!" Hermione hissed viciously before looking around the room to check and see if anyone had overheard them.

No one was openly looking in their direction, but she didn't trust that it meant none of them were eavesdropping.

"Let's go somewhere else to discuss this, instead of going to breakfast," she suggested as she stood and grabbed for her book bag, and walked out of the door, fully confident that they would be running along to meet up with her.

She wasn't disappointed when a few moments later she could hear the boys running behind her to catch up. They set a quick pace and ended up in the courtyard, where Hermione looked for a quiet space they could slip away to. She noticed a spot to her left, where there were two pillars which served as an archway. She walked towards the archway and was pleased to see that beyond it was a stone path that twisted and turned to a location not yet known to her. She nodded her head in the direction of the archway and the boys, catching her meaning, wordlessly began to follow her as she began to walk in that direction.

"You guys are being very strange right now," Harry joked nervously once they began to head down the stone path.

Hermione ignored his comment and was pleased to note that Draco did the same, and she hoped he decided to let her do all the talking for this situation.

She stopped once she felt they had reached a comfortable distance from where they had entered and she paused to listen for anyone who would dare try to follow them. Unable to hear anything, Hermione assumed the coast was clear, before pulling both Harry and Malfoy close to her as she began regaling Harry with the story of their adventure from last night. She told him about how Weasley set them up, about them narrowly escaping Filch, and finally, their meeting with the Cerberus. That's when Malfoy cut in, telling Harry about how he had noticed the Cerberus first and the trap door he saw directly beneath the beast's feet just before they fled the room. This drew Hermione's attention immediately, since Malfoy hadn't mentioned it the night before, and she had been otherwise distracted with saving her own skin the moment she laid eyes on the great beastly creature. She noticed Harry's face light up at Draco's input to the story and could easily see that his mind was hard at work trying to decipher what that meant.

"Well, in Greek mythology, the Cerberus is used to guard the gates of the Underworld," Hermione said absentmindedly and at Harry and Malfoy's confused look, she shrugged, "After learning that my name was from Greek Mythology, it sparked an interest."

"So that's what you think it was doing?" Malfoy asked as he looked at her, his grey eyes glowing in the darkness of the shaded path. "Well, what do you suppose it's guarding then?" he continued, taking his eyes away from her to look back and forth between her and Harry.

"It could be guarding that package that I told you guys about," Harry said after a while of silent thought, "The one Hagrid moved from Gringotts, remember?" he asked excitedly.

"What makes you think that?" Hermione asked, having already come to that conclusion the moment Malfoy mentioned a trap door beneath the Cerberus.

"Well when Hagrid took me to Gringotts, I remember him telling me that Gringotts was the most secure location to store something in the wizarding world, aside from Hogwarts... His exact words were something like,  _'Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe - 'cept maybe Hogwarts.'_ " Harry said, deepening his voice as he imitated the giant's gruff diction.

"Well he wasn't lying about that," Draco said with a shrug, "My family has kept our money in Gringotts for generations, and our vault has been secure and un-plottable since it was given to us."

"Well if that's the case, why would Hagrid remove that package from their care?" Hermione asked wanting to see what they both thought on the matter.

"Hagrid compared Gringott's security to that of Hogwarts before he went and took that package, and he said he got it because  _Dumbledore_  asked him to," Harry said and Hermione nodded her head in response - her mind whirring at a rate of almost 150 kilometres an hour at Harry's latest revelation. She shared a slight look with Malfoy, before turning back to Harry and motioning for him to continue.

"If Hogwarts is the only place that's as secure as Gringotts, and Dumbledore tasked Hagrid with emptying one of the vaults in that bank, my only guess would be that he did it in order to be able to keep a closer eye on whatever it was that had hidden inside," Harry told them, and Hermione was surprised by the sound logic he provided to back up his thoughts.

 _Maybe he isn't as dense as I first assumed him to be_ , she thought as she looked at him.

By the end of their discussion, Hermione knew without a doubt that the school was guarding whatever it was that had been taken from that vault and whatever it was, she was certain that her father was here for it. The only thing she couldn't figure out was why the Headmaster would send that oaf of a groundskeeper to retrieve it, and why he would want him to do so in the presence of a nosy child like Harry.

* * *

The days seemed to fly by after that conversation with Harry and Malfoy, and Hermione had buried herself in books from the library as she tried to uncover what the package could have been. Sometimes Harry would join her on her quest for knowledge, but as he began to be further accepted into Slytherin house, he began spending less and less time immersed in books with Hermione. That didn't mean that she spent her time researching alone, however, since she soon found Malfoy filling the void Harry had left in the wake of his absence.

Malfoy was impressed with her ability to speed read, sometimes getting caught up in the novelty of watching her devour books in mere minutes. Sometimes he would ask her questions about her life, or other aspects of her life that he was curious about. He asked her about the muggle world and the muggles she grew up with and each of his questions was always met with deliberate silence. But that didn't stop him from coming back and persisting, his fear of her dwindling with each passing day.

Perhaps it was because she was so busy with her research, what with spending three evenings a week researching in the library on top of all her homework - after all she did have a desire to be the top student in her year - but Hermione could hardly believe it when she realized that it was already time for her first lesson with her father. It was a rather daunting task to think about, and she didn't want to let him down. So after mastering the basics in all of her classes, she took it a step further and began including miscellaneous spells she found along the way in her search for what the mysterious package could be.

So it was with that, that she soon found herself standing outside the door to her father's classroom. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she lifted her hand and knocked firmly on the door. Less than a minute later, the door swung open, revealing the Professor that she had come to know as her father.

"Hello Professor," Hermione said with a respectful nod, "I was wondering if there were any extra credit assignments you could give me for our Defence class?"

"Y-yes, of c-c-course, Miss G-granger," he told her with a slight smirk, "P-please do c-c-come inside."

After she entered the room, he closed the door behind her quickly and spelled it with another charm - another privacy ward she assumed having read about wards while researching for what that package could be.

She turned around to look at Professor Quirrell and saw him staring at her with an inscrutable look on his face.

"Morga - " he began before catching himself and covering it up with a cough. "Hermione, tell me what you've learned so far about legilimency and occlumency?" he asked her, walking around her and to the front of the classroom where the small staircase to his office was located.

She didn't know what to make of the fact that he seemed to be so unsure of whether or not he should call her by the name she was given at birth or the name she had been calling herself for the past ten years.

"Morgana is fine, father," she told him before shooting a small smile in his direction, "But to answer your question, I only know the basics of each of those forms of mind magic - Flourish and Blotts was rather lacking, in regard to books on the subject. Not to mention the school library houses all books on mind magic is hidden away in the restricted section." she continued, mumbling to herself about the wards on the section that she had been working on trying to dismantle.

He chuckled at her response as they walked up the stairs and disappeared into his office, telling her about how much she reminded him of himself when he was her age.

"How so?" she asked once he closed the door to his office.

"Well, much the same as you, I was raised in an orphanage and was eager to learn everything that I could, the moment I discovered I was a wizard. And with my obvious muggle background  _and_  name, I'm certain it goes without saying that you know I wasn't well received within Slytherin house - but speaking of that, you  _must_  tell me whether or not you've had the chance to make use of the book I've loaned you, but not now. Now we need to get down to business."

She nodded her head in response and he continued speaking from there.

"Good," he told her before motioning with his hand that she take one of the empty seats near his desk. "We'll start with the fundamentals of this type of magic for today, and begin working on your shields next week."

"Okay father," she told him, as she sat in the seat he had indicated. "I'm ready."

"Very well," he told her before he took the seat just beside hers. "Contrary to what you may have learned from the few books that you've found on the subject of mind magic, the mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at one's leisure. The mind is a very complex and many-layered organ, Morgana, and thoughts are not etched into the inside of your skull, to be perused by anyone who chooses to invade it. However, a skilled legilimens will be able to do just that under certain conditions, a skilled legilimens can easily delve into the minds of their victims and are able to interpret their findings based on what they are able to see."

Hermione nodded her head vigorously, eagerly absorbing every word that fell from her father's lips almost as if it were the gospel.

"The only magical defence one can use to defend the mind against this type of external penetration, is occlumency. It's an obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one when it comes down to dealing with a legilimens like Dumbledore.

"The best way to prepare your mind against a legilimens is to empty yourself of any and all emotion - something that shouldn't be too hard for you to do, given what house you've been sorted into." he told her before gracing her with a small smile, "The only people weak enough to crumble in the face of mental penetration, are sensitive fools who cannot find it in themselves to curtail their emotions while being mentally assaulted."

"Why is that, father?" Hermione asked, finding it easier and easier to call him father, the more she used the unfamiliar word.

"Because fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, are weak-willed people, or in other words — they are very easy to manipulate. People who tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves tend to wallow in their own sad memories, allowing said memories to stay at the forefront of their minds. When your mind is centred on nostalgia, it isn't hard for a legilimens to break down your barriers and peruse your mind at ease. That's why it's best to be able to shut down your emotions so that no one can piggyback on them and use them to help enter your mind. Now, do you understand?"

"Yes, father," Hermione told him, nodding her head as she spoke.

"Good, because that's what I want you to work on before our next lesson," he told her as he grabbed a book from his desk that she hadn't noticed before, and pressed it into her hands. "Next week we're going to begin working on your shields."

Hermione looked down at the cover of the worn leather bound book reverently as she delicately ran her finger over the title — which had been embossed on the cover in a blood red ink.

_Tethers of the Mind: A Guide to Understanding Mind Magic_


End file.
